Chapter 26: The Breaking
The day of departure dawned clear and hard, a perfect California blue. Packing was a clinical affair. Jim chose a few dark, lightweight items. He watched Anna, who methodically filled a leather case with vials, syringes, and blister packs of pills, her movements precise as a pharmacist. Jackie was given a single, large suitcase, already packed for her with things Anna had selected—silks, linens, heels.
A black SUV took them to a private airstrip, far from the crowded commercial terminals. The jet was a sleek Gulfstream, its interior cool and muted, all cream leather and brushed steel. Jackie moved slowly up the steps, her hand on the rail for balance. They had calibrated her dosage—enough OxyContin to keep her floating, but not so much she’d stumble or slur her words in public. She was in that narrow band of functionality, where the eyes are slightly slow to focus and the smile is a beat delayed, but everything else passes for normal.
She settled into a window seat, her forehead resting against the cool plexiglass. Jim sat across the aisle. Anna took the seat facing them, placing her leather folio on the table between them.
The engines whined, then roared. The jet began to move, accelerating down the runway with a smooth, insistent pull. Jim watched the dry hills of California flatten and fall away, replaced by the vast, empty blue of the Pacific. The plane leveled off. The fasten seatbelt sign chimed and went dark.
Anna unbuckled her belt. She opened her folio and withdrew a single sheet of heavy, cream-colored paper. She placed it on the table, then set a sleek, black pen beside it.
“Jackie,” Anna said, her voice cutting through the low hum of the engines.
Jackie turned her head from the window. Her gaze drifted to the paper, then to Anna’s face.
“This formalizes our arrangement,” Anna said, her tone pleasant, administrative. “It’s for everyone’s clarity and protection.”
Jim leaned forward to read the document. The text was set in elegant, sharp serif font.
CONTRACT OF SERVICE AND DEVOTION
It stated, in clear and unadorned language, that Jacqueline Mattry entered into a permanent and exclusive arrangement with James Harding and Anna Madeley.
The clauses were listed with bullet-point efficiency.
She acknowledged herself as their property, a companion and devoted attendant.
She consented to maintain a state of regulated intoxication via pharmaceutical and alcoholic means, as prescribed and provided by them. Minimum daily requirements were specified: one-fifth of bourbon and or vodka; three packs of cigarettes; continued, adjusted opioid maintenance
She would maintain impeccable personal presentation, adhering to a wardrobe and aesthetic determined solely by Jim and Anna and will always have a flask of vodka and drugs in her purse.
Her primary function was to act as Jim’s public companion, showcasing loyalty and devotion, and to leverage her social standing to facilitate their integration and influence within specified circles. This included planning and hosting social and charitable events at their residences.
She would provide sexual services to Jim and Anna willingly, enthusiastically, and on demand.
She would further provide sexual services to other individuals, couples, or groups as directed by Jim and Anna, and would assist in planning and hosting events centered around such activities.
She committed her life, heart, soul, and undying loyalty to them, agreeing to fulfill any demand they might make.
she agrees to terminate her life or have it terminated if Jim and Anna require it.
At the bottom was a line for her signature.
Jackie stared at the page. Her breath hitched, a tiny, almost inaudible sound lost in the jet’s ambient noise. Her drugged compliance had been a blanket over her will, but this was a cold, specific wind cutting through. Her eyes moved from the clause about the drugs, to the alcohol, to the sex, and back again.
“This is…” she began, her voice a dry whisper.
“It’s what is already true,” Anna interrupted, her voice soft but leaving no room for argument. “It’s just words on paper, Jackie. The reality is already happening. The pills, the drinks, the plane. This just makes it clean. Legitimate.”
Jim watched Jackie’s face. He saw the struggle—the last ghost of the Malibu charity chairwoman trying to surface, appalled. Then he saw the chemical fog wash over it, soothing the panic, dissolving the outrage. The OxyContin did its work, translating terror into a numb acceptance.
“What happens if I don’t?” Jackie asked, her eyes glistening.
Anna smiled gently, as if explaining something simple to a child. “Then you get off this plane at the next stop. And you go wherever Cynthia and Donna went. Do you know where that is? Did you not read the last sentence in the contract?”
Jackie’s throat worked. She shook her head slowly.
“No,” Anna agreed. “You don’t. And you never will. This,” she tapped the contract with a manicured nail, “is your lifeline. It’s your purpose. It’s a beautiful, clear purpose. No more confusion. No more empty days. You will be essential.”
Jackie looked at Jim. He held her gaze, his own face a placid mask. He was a stone. A fact. He was part of the system offering her this single, narrow path.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the pen. The black barrel felt heavy in her grip. She looked down at the line.
“Sign it, Jackie,” Jim said. His voice wasn’t cruel. It was just final.
She bent over the table. The pen scratched against the expensive paper. She wrote slowly, with the deliberate care of the intoxicated: Jackie Matrry, Companion, slave, whore.
Anna let out a small, satisfied breath. She took the paper, blew lightly on the signature, and slid it back into her folio. “Excellent,” she said. “Now, that’s done.” She reached into a small cooler and produced a bottle of champagne and three crystal flutes. She popped the cork with a practiced twist and poured, filling each glass to the brim.
“ But first here is another document for you to sign. It is divorce papers from you husband. It basically says you get nothing. Sign it.” She handed it to Jackie and she signed it. “ Good. It will will transmitted from the plane to the LA courthouse and that will be it.
She handed a flute to Jim, then one to Jackie. She took the third for herself and raised it.
“To new beginnings,” Anna said, her eyes bright. “To clarity. To a life of service and beauty.”
Jim clinked his glass against Anna’s, then against Jackie’s. The crystal pinged, a sharp, sweet sound. He drank. The champagne was bone dry, perfect.
Jackie stared at her glass, watching the bubbles rise in a frantic, endless procession. Then, as if remembering a script, she lifted it to her lips and drank. She drained the entire glass in one long, unbroken swallow.
Anna refilled it immediately. “That’s the spirit,” she said, her smile widening. “Get a head start on your daily requirements.”