“You need to come back.”
“No.”
“You can’t leave us with that bill.”
“I didn’t create the bill.”
“You’re my wife.”
“And you’re responsible for your own dinner.”
His voice became threatening.
“If you don’t come back, you’re out of the condo.”
I almost laughed.
The condo had been purchased largely with money my parents had given me before the marriage.
Our prenuptial agreement was very clear about ownership.
Benedict knew that.
He simply hoped I didn’t.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
Then I hung up.
The restaurant bill reportedly came to nearly five thousand dollars.
Gertrude had to put most of it on her credit cards and borrow money from relatives to settle the account.
The next morning, I returned to the condo with my best friend Brenda.
I wasn’t there to argue.
I was there to collect my financial records, personal documents, and belongings.
