The final total exceeded $300,000.
Three minutes later, the waiter returned.
His face had lost all color.
“Sir… I’m sorry. The payment was declined.”
Michael frowned.
“Run it again.”
“We already did.”
“Use the backup card.”
The waiter swallowed.
“Those were declined as well.”
Vanessa’s smile disappeared.
Michael grabbed the bill.
Checked the amount.
And turned pale.
Across the city, fraud alerts began flooding my phone.
I was sitting in my father’s kitchen with a cup of coffee that had gone untouched.
Dad glanced at the screen.
Then at me.
“Good,” he said.
I frowned.
“Good?”
He nodded.
“Now the real divorce begins.”
At 9:07 p.m., Michael called.
I ignored him.
At 9:09, Vanessa called from an unknown number.
I ignored that too.
At 9:15, the first voicemail arrived.
“Mariana, stop acting like a child. You’re embarrassing me in front of important people. Approve the payment.”
Important people.
Interesting.
Earlier that evening, Vanessa had uploaded a photo of herself raising a champagne glass inside the Sapphire Room.
The caption read:
Finally being treated like the queen I deserve to be.
Dad slid a notebook toward me.
“Document everything.”
“What?”
“Every call. Every text. Every voicemail. Every screenshot.”
At 9:46, the club manager called.
“Ms. Salazar, sorry to bother you, but Mr. Bennett is attempting to authorize charges through your corporate membership.”
“My ex-husband,” I corrected.
An awkward pause followed.
“I understand. There’s something else.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
