As the convoy of black Audi SUVs pulled up to the house, Kitty, her daughter, Gisele, her infant son, Harvard, and the children’s nannies alighted from the car and the line of staffers bowed in unison before scurrying around to gather all the luggage.

“Oooh! It’s good to be home!” Kitty squealed, kicking off her red Aquazzura suede fringe-and-tassel sandals as she entered the great hall, which was now reduced to a construction site with scaffolding against the walls, plastic tarp on all the furniture, and exposed wiring hanging from the ceiling. In an effort to remove every last reminder of Colette’s taste, Kitty had spent the past year “collaborating” with Thierry Catroux—the celebrated interior designer who worked only with billionaires—to redesign every last square inch of the estate.

“Where is my husband?” Kitty asked Laurent, the estate manager she had poached from some tech mogul’s estate in Kona to replace Wolseley, Colette’s British butler, who had once worked for Princess Michael of Kent at Kensington Palace.

“Mr. Bing is having his daily massage, madame.”

Kitty headed over to the spa pavilion and descended the steps to the subterranean swimming pool encircled with carved marble pillars. As she walked down the lacquered-cinnabar passageway leading to the treatment rooms, she smiled at the thought of all this coming down too—Colette’s hammam-inspired Turkish spa was going to be transformed into a futuristic Egyptian fantasy spa inspired by the movie Stargate. It was her own idea!

Kitty entered the treatment room illuminated by scented candles and found Jack lying facedown on the massage bed. The scent of frankincense permeated the air, as Céline Dion played softly in the background. One of the female therapists* was doing reflexology on Jack’s feet, while another walked precariously along his spine as if she were on a tightrope, grasping an elaborate lattice of poles affixed to the ceiling in order to ensure the precise amount of body weight on his aching muscles.

“Waaah! That’s it! That’s the spot!” Jack groaned through his face cradle, as the woman standing on his back dug the ball of her left foot into a muscle below his shoulder blades.

“Looks like someone’s having a good time!” Kitty declared.

“Yea…aahh! Yessss! You’re home!”

“I thought I’d find you waiting to welcome me!”

“When I heard the plane was delayed coming in, I thought I’d…oooooh…get my massage first!”

“Those stupid French officials delayed our takeoff for two hours because of some idiotic bomb scare. They wouldn’t even let me onto our plane, so I was stuck in that ghastly terminal with the public.” Kitty pouted, as she stretched out on the plush chaise lounge next to Jack.

“I’m so sorry you had to be with the public, babylove. Did you have a good time in Paris?”

“I sure did! Do you know what happy news I heard while I was there?”

“Owwahhh! Gentle, gentle there! What?”

“You’ll be pleased to know that your daughter is finally getting married,” Kitty said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jack let out a slow grunt. “Ummm…really?”

“Yes. And to an Englishman. But of course you already knew?”

“How would I? Colette hasn’t spoken to me in almost two years—not since our wedding.”

“You just don’t seem overly surprised.”

“Why should I be surprised? She was bound to get married at some point.”

“But to an Englishman?”

“Well, Carlton Bao stopped talking to her, and Richie Yang wouldn’t have her, so I think her options in China became quite limited. What is this fellow’s story?”

“He’s a nobody. Some nonprofit lawyer who’s trying to save the planet. I suppose your ex-wife will have to support the both of them forever. Do you know what else I heard? Colette’s wedding gown costs two million dollars.”

“That’s absurd. Is it made of gold?”

“Actually, there are gold chips sewn into it, and it’s encrusted with precious stones. It’s totally outrageous,” Kitty said, as she sniffed a glass container of body lotion placed on the side table and began rubbing some on her arms.

“Well, I suppose she can do whatever she wants with her money.”

“But I thought you cut her off completely?”

Jack went silent for a minute, then suddenly groaned. “AWWWWW! Why does that hurt so much?”

The therapist kneaded a point on his foot with her thumb and forefinger and sternly pronounced, “Sir, this is your gallbladder—it’s totally inflamed. I think you must have consumed too much cognac and oily foods last night. Did you have those fried oysters and abalone noodles again when I told you not to?”

“Aww! Aww! Let go! Let go!” Jack screamed.

“Jack, answer me. What did you mean by her money?” Kitty pressed on, oblivious to his pain.

Jack sighed in relief as the therapist finally released his foot. “Colette receives income from a trust fund. It was part of my divorce settlement with Lai Di.”

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing of it?”

“Well, I didn’t want to bore you with the details of my divorce.”

“I thought Lai Di only got two billion?”

“She did, but as a condition of her walking away and not making any more noise, I had to set up a trust fund for Colette.”

“Oh really? And how much is that trust fund worth?”

Jack murmured something in a muffled tone.

“Speak up, honey, I can’t hear you…you said what in U.S. currency?”

“About five billion.”

“YOU GAVE YOUR DAUGHTER FIVE BILLION DOLLARS?” Kitty bolted upright on the chaise lounge.

“I didn’t give her five billion. She gets the income from a trust worth about five billion. It’s all tied to shares in my companies, anyway, so her income fluctuates every year depending on the dividend yields. And it’s only for her lifetime.”

“And what happens after her lifetime?”

“It will go to any children she has.”

Suddenly visions of Colette and her future half-white children began flooding into Kitty’s mind. She could see Colette in a white summer dress, running barefoot through a field in the English countryside with laughing golden-haired kids. She began to seethe quietly as she calculated the figures in her head. Even if the trust was getting a measly one percent interest on five billion, this meant that Colette—who she always presumed was being supported by her poor mother who only had two billion dollars—would get at least fifty million dollars in pure income every year! And her unnaturally photogenic children, who wouldn’t even know their Chinese grandfather, would also benefit from this!

“So where does this leave us?” Kitty said in a grave tone.

“What do you mean?”

“If you’ve set aside so much money for your darling daughter, who by the way won’t even speak to you anymore, and her half-breed children, that haven’t even been born yet, what are you doing for your other children and your poor wife?”

“I don’t understand your question. What do I do for you? I work my balls off for you, and you have a fantastic life and get everything your heart desires. Didn’t you just spend ten million dollars in Paris?”