A New Hire Booked My Luxury Napa Estate For $150 — So I Had Her Arrested Chapter 05
I wasn’t surprised.
Over a hundred people trespassing on a private estate, destroying property, refusing to leave.
That’s exactly what follows a 911 call.
“So?”
“Elena, get over here right now! Mr. Preston’s here too! Come explain!”
Tiffany’s voice was frantic—but clearly not about her coworkers’ predicament. About her own.
“I’m not the one who needs to explain. The estate has full security footage. A damages inventory and valuation report are being drafted.”
“You can wait for the process to run its course.”
I hung up.
I changed clothes and drove to the Napa County Sheriff’s Station.
On the way, I called Uncle Ray and asked him to walk me through everything, from the start.
At just before 7 AM, Tiffany had shown up with the retreat crowd—over a hundred people.
Uncle Ray told her the estate had a prior booking and they had no reservation on file—they couldn’t come in.
Tiffany ignored him and led the crowd right onto the property. There was no stopping them.
Mr. Whitaker had been about to take his guests to the cherry orchard for their private picking. He walked out of the villa to find strangers everywhere.
A BBQ grill was already fired up on his private patio, smoke drifting in every direction.
Tiffany had gotten hold of a megaphone somehow and was shouting from the middle of his patio:
“Cherry orchard’s to the east! Pick as much as you want—no limits!”
A wave of people rushed in.
The cherries weren’t even ripe. They were pulling them down in bunches, taking one bite, throwing them on the ground.
Uncle Ray and his staff ran over to intervene. They couldn’t contain it.
Thirty-seven newly planted saplings were snapped.
That variety was the rootstock I’d ordered from Italy the previous year. It had taken over a year to cultivate.
The koi pond had its own disaster. Kids brought by family members were throwing rocks into the water and killed nine Japanese koi.
Those fish had been imported from Japan two years ago. Each one worth thousands of dollars.
The worst was this: Mr. Whitaker had been hosting his guests for a wine tasting in the private tasting pavilion on the north side.
The bottle of Romanée-Conti had been decanted early, resting on the oak table beside them.
Tiffany had swept in with a group of people, taking photos in the pavilion. She was waving a wine glass around, insisting on posing and jostling with someone.
Mid-shove, she knocked the table over.
The bottle hit the floor and shattered.
Mr. Whitaker stood up on the spot, his face ashen.
Tiffany, still grinning, said:
“Relax, it’s just a bottle of wine. Do we really need to be this serious about it?”
I listened to all of it, pulled over to the shoulder, and sat there for a full three minutes.
I glanced at my phone. Uncle Ray had sent the damage report.
Cherry trees, 37 total, imported Italian rootstock—approx. $18,000
Unripe cherries destroyed, approx. 200 lbs—approx. $2,000
Japanese koi, 9 fish—approx. $8,000
Damage to private patio, BBQ grease cleanup, tasting pavilion repairs…
Total estate damages: $60,000+
My hand was still shaking.
Not from anger. From heartbreak.
Those trees, those fish, every inch of the estate—I’d built it up with my own hands, piece by piece.
Tiffany walked in with a hundred people and, in just over two hours, wrecked years of my work.
