“Lena, why is my card getting declined?”
I glanced toward the kitchen counter, where three unpaid vendor invoices sat beside my laptop.
“What card?” I asked evenly.
“The family card,” she snapped quietly. “The one connected to the catering account. The restaurant says it won’t process.”
I shut my eyes.
For twelve years, Marjorie had carried a business card I never actually approved for personal use. Nolan always begged me not to confront her because “Mom likes feeling included.” She used it for flowers, spa appointments, lunches, gifts, and once even a cruise deposit, all disguised under “client relations.”
But earlier that afternoon, after signing the divorce papers, I had done one very simple thing.
I canceled every secondary card attached to my company account.
“Marjorie,” I said calmly, “that card belonged to my business. Not your family.”
Silence.
