Beatrice and David were about to receive an unpleasant — and well-earned — surprise.
She completed the update.
“Would you like us to refund the unused balance to your original account?”
“Yes.”
As soon as the refund notification appeared on my phone, I made one more request.
“Now, I’d like to book your penthouse suite. For myself and my children.”
This time he smiled genuinely.
“It would be our pleasure.”
A few signatures later, a gold keycard rested in my hand.
“Welcome to the penthouse, Ma’am. Would you like your bags moved up?”
“Yes, please.”
—
My middle child gasped as the elevator opened directly into a marble foyer.
My oldest stared at me.
“Mom, this room is huge. Is Dad coming up here?”
“No, sweetheart. This one is just for us tonight.”
She nodded with an understanding far beyond her years.
I ordered burgers, fries, three different desserts, and a chilled glass of white wine.
The kids bounced onto the enormous king bed while I stepped out onto the balcony.
The ocean stretched endlessly before me, glowing beneath the setting sun.
For twelve years I’d endured Beatrice’s cruel remarks while my husband hid behind his phone whenever life became uncomfortable.
And in one afternoon, I took my power back.
But the best part hadn’t happened yet.
My phone buzzed on the wicker table.
David’s name flashed across the screen.
Then Beatrice’s.
Seven missed calls in a row.
A moment later, I heard the elevator ding, followed by the furious click of high heels racing toward my door.
I opened it.
Beatrice was charging straight at me.
David hurried after her.
The hotel manager followed close behind.
Several guests waiting by the elevator turned to watch.
“You had no right!” Beatrice screamed loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “My spa appointment was canceled! They shut off our room charges!”
She pointed directly at me.
“Tell them to fix it!”
“I won’t.” I folded my arms.
She whipped around toward David.
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