Chapter 4 - The Social Collapse
News travels fast in Beverly Hills, but in the hyper-connected world of elite private high schools, it travels at the speed of light.
By Monday afternoon, the video of Savannah throwing my $5,000 laptop into the pool—followed by the dramatic footage of the Beverly Hills police shutting down her party and her mother pleading with the caterers—had accumulated over four million views across social media platforms.
The internet dubbed her "Pool Party Patty," and the backlash was swift and merciless.
I sat in my office on Monday evening when my assistant informed me that the headmaster of Westlake Prep Academy, Dr. Harrison, was on line one.
I picked up the phone. "Dr. Harrison. Thank you for calling back."
"Miss Mercer," Dr. Harrison said, his tone gravely serious. "I am calling regarding the corporate tuition guarantee issued by Mercer Capital Holdings for Savannah Vane."
"The guarantee has been formally withdrawn, Dr. Harrison," I stated clearly. "Mercer Capital will no longer be underwriting any educational expenses for Savannah Vane or Caroline Mercer-Vane."
"I understand," Dr. Harrison sighed. "Beyond the financial matter, Miss Mercer... the board of directors met this afternoon. The viral video involving Savannah’s behavior, combined with the police incident on the school-affiliated venue property, constitutes a severe violation of our student code of conduct. Savannah has been formally expelled from Westlake Prep, effective immediately."
"I see," I said. "Thank you for informing me."
Ten minutes after I hung up, my office door swung open.
It wasn't Caroline this time. It was Savannah.
She was wearing her school uniform, but her tie was loosened, her eyes were bloodshot, and her mascara was smeared across her cheeks. She looked smaller, stripped of the designer armor her mother had bought for her.
She marched up to my desk, but the arrogance from Friday night was entirely gone. She looked terrified.
"You ruined my life!" Savannah sobbed, slamming her hands onto my desk. "Everyone at school is making fun of me! My TikTok account was banned for harassment! The headmaster just told me I can't come back! My friends won't answer my texts!"
I looked at my sixteen-year-old niece. For a brief moment, a flicker of pity touched my heart. But then I remembered her smirk as my laptop hit the water. I remembered her telling a crowd of people that I was useless.
"Sit down, Savannah," I said calmly.
She hesitated, then collapsed into one of the leather chairs across from my desk, wiping her nose with her sleeve.
"You think I ruined your life?" I asked her quietly. "Savannah, I paid your school tuition for three years. I bought your clothes. I paid for your summer camps. I spent fifty thousand dollars so you could have a birthday party with your friends. And when I gave you a tool to help you build a future, you threw it into a pool to impress a group of teenagers who don't care about you."
"Mom told me you were rich and that it didn't matter!" Savannah cried. "Mom said you owed us because Grandpa left you the business!"
"Grandpa didn't leave me this business," I said sternly, leaning forward. "I built Mercer Capital with fifteen years of eighty-hour work weeks. I built it while your mother was spending her time trying to game the system and hide money in offshore banks. Your mother lied to you, Savannah. She taught you that entitlement was a virtue and that family was something to be exploited."
Savannah looked down at her hands, her shoulders shaking as she wept. "Where am I supposed to go? Mom is screaming at lawyers all day. The bank came and repossessed her car this morning. We don't have anywhere to live."
"The lease on the Beverly Hills house expires at the end of the month," I told her. "I will not let you be homeless, Savannah. But the days of private schools, designer gowns, and unearned luxury are over. If you want a future, you are going to have to work for it—starting with enrolling in a public high school and getting a real education."
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Savannah looked up at me, her eyes wide with shock. "Public school?"
"Public school," I affirmed. "And if you ever want another laptop, you’ll earn the money and buy it yourself."
