I reached for the delicate silver spoon and took a scoop of the glistening roe. Victoria’s face flushed a violent shade of crimson.
“Don’t you dare! I paid for this! That’s three thousand dollars of—”
“You didn’t,” I interrupted, letting the word hang in the air like a guillotine. “I did. Or rather, my card did. And I reversed the charges ten minutes ago.”
Silence crashed over the table, so heavy it felt physical. The chandeliers above seemed to dim. Victoria’s jaw didn’t just drop; it hung limp as she realized the “luxury” she was consuming had just become a debt she couldn’t pay.
But that was merely the opening movement of my symphony.
Chapter 2: The Squawk of Justice
The chaos was immediate. My mother’s hand fluttered to her throat, her fingers knotting in her imitation pearls. Victoria’s face twisted, red blotches blooming on her neck like a spreading infection.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed, her voice a low, venomous vibration.
“I already have,” I replied, taking another delicate bite of the caviar. “And since you’re so fond of surprises, you should check your email, Mother. I just sent you the cancellation confirmation for that $8,500 summer getaway to The Amalfi Coast. It turns out, ungrateful children don’t fund vacations.”
Margaret’s eyes scanned the envelope I slid onto her plate. She froze, her breath catching in a hitch of pure, unadulterated panic. “No,” she whispered. “My trip…”
Suddenly, a shrill, rhythmic screech shattered the thick tension. Perched on my shoulder, hidden partially by the collar of my jacket, was Ronnie, my African Grey parrot. He fluffed his charcoal feathers and let out a squawk of perfect, crystalline clarity.
“Call the lawyer! Liar, liar! Call the lawyer!”
