Chapter 2

The customer service representative was silent for two seconds. "Mrs. Whitman, I'll need to verify your identity first. Could you provide the email address linked to the account and the last four digits of the payment card?" I gave her the email address, then read out the final four digits of my credit card. I had selected every part of this trip and paid every charge myself. Daniel had changed the names of the hotel guests and tour participants, but he couldn't erase my payment history along with them. I heard the clicking of a keyboard through the phone. "Your identity has been verified. The luxury suite at the hotel in Paris and the private driver can both be canceled. The Seine cruise is eligible for a partial refund. The anniversary dinner requires forfeiting a twenty-percent deposit. The winery tour has passed its refund deadline. As for the airline tickets, they are nonrefundable and cannot be transferred to other passengers under the fare rules." "Cancel the hotel and every private activity that can be canceled." "Including the anniversary dinner?" I looked at the itinerary binder on the table. That restaurant required reservations six months in advance. I had even arranged for them to serve the same champagne we had drunk twenty years ago. I had sent the manager an old photograph and asked him to write our names on the dessert. Now that seat belonged to Veronica. "Cancel it," I said. "The winery tour is nonrefundable, but I can still cancel the reservation itself. Are you sure you want to do that as well?" "I'm sure." After confirming with me again, the representative went through the refund amounts and cancellation fees one by one. I opened my computer and saved every payment receipt, itinerary-change record, and cancellation confirmation email. The original guest list had carried Daniel's name and mine. Two weeks ago, Daniel had contacted the travel provider and replaced my name with Veronica's. He hadn't merely lied about postponing the trip. He had planned in advance for another woman to sleep in the room I had booked, ride in the car I had arranged, and take my place at my anniversary dinner. After canceling the final reservation, the representative asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with?" "Add additional security verification to the account," I said. "From now on, no one may change a reservation without my written authorization." I ended the call, organized all the documents into a new folder, and named it "European Trip Payment Records." For the past twenty years, I had been the one who solved every problem in our family. When Daniel forgot to pay a bill, I handled it. When Sophia changed her plans at the last minute, I accommodated her. Even for this trip, I had considered everyone's preferences in advance. They probably assumed that once my anger passed, I would clean up their mess this time too. That afternoon, another notification arrived from the airline. Flight AF023 had departed. I didn't call any of them. I sent Daniel a single message. [I have canceled the hotel and private activities that I paid for, that remained under my account, and that were eligible for cancellation. You will be responsible for all other expenses yourselves.] The message was marked as delivered, but no reply came. Early the next morning, my ringing phone jolted me awake. The bedroom was dark, and Daniel's name flashed across the screen. I answered without speaking first. "Isabelle, what the hell did you do?" His voice was loud. I could hear suitcase wheels and a crowd of people around him. "I canceled my reservations." "The hotel says the suite was canceled. We just spent hours on a plane, and now we have nowhere to stay." "Then book another hotel." "It's peak season in Paris. Every hotel nearby is either full or outrageously expensive." Daniel's voice tightened with anger. "Call the travel company right now and get the room reinstated." I sat up in bed and reached for the glass of water on my nightstand. "And who would stay there once it was reinstated? You and Veronica?" "Don't start this now. Sophia is here too. Do you want your own daughter dragging her luggage around and sleeping at the airport?" "She's twenty-one, and she knew two weeks ago that all of you were lying to me. You made this decision together. You can deal with the consequences together." Daniel's breathing grew noticeably heavier. "You planned this trip. Paying for it was your responsibility in the first place." "I planned a twentieth-anniversary trip for my husband and me, not a family vacation for you, our daughter, and another woman." I heard Sophia complaining in the background. "Dad, tell her we're already in Paris. What does she think she's accomplishing?" Daniel seemed to walk a few steps away before lowering his voice. "Isabelle, I know you're angry, but you can't use money to punish us. Reinstate the hotel first. We can discuss everything else when I get home." "That eighty thousand dollars came from my personal savings. You changed the itinerary without my consent, and now you expect me to keep paying for all of you?" "We're married. Why do you insist on keeping score?" Holding my water glass, I suddenly laughed. He hadn't remembered we were married when he removed my name from the itinerary. Now that he needed my money, our marriage mattered again. "The moment you decided to board that plane with Veronica, every cent between us had to be accounted for." "If you don't reinstate the reservation, I'll tell Sophia everything," Daniel said. "I'll make sure she knows her mother deliberately ruined this trip." "She already knows the truth. Like you, she simply assumed that no matter how badly you hurt me, I would still pay for everything in the end." I ended the call and temporarily muted his number. Less than a minute later, messages from Sophia began appearing one after another. [You've gone too far.] [Veronica won't stop crying.] [Dad was only trying to make everyone happy. Why do you have to ruin everything?] Finally, she sent me a voice message that lasted a little over ten seconds. When I played it, I heard my daughter crying first. Then came Veronica's gentle voice. "Let me talk to Isabelle. Maybe she's just jealous."