Teresa lets out a sharp, theatrical laugh. “Do not try to compare. A lady like me being rejected at a luxury store is not the same yass. as your little resentments.”
A lady like me.
That phrase alone contains the whole rotten architecture of her soul. She has always spoken like status was perfume, something she could spray over debt, manipulation, and dependence until the whole room forgot who was paying.
You rest one hand on the doorframe. “You mean a lady like you being told a card no longer works because it was never your card to begin with?”
A murmur runs down the hallway.
Gabriel’s jaw tightens. “You didn’t have to cancel it immediately.”
You turn your head slowly toward him. “Immediately? Gabriel, the divorce was final. The account was mine. The additional card was tied to my business line. Why exactly should your mother keep shopping on my credit after the marriage ended?”
His silence lasts a beat too long.
Teresa answers for him. “Because that is what decent people do. They don’t yank support out from under family with no warning.”
That lands so absurdly you almost admire it.
