Chapter 5 - The Card That Didn't Work
Across town, inside the vaulted, double-height living room of Linda’s Oakridge home, panic had set in with the force of a hurricane.
Todd, Ryan’s golden-child younger brother, stood in the corner of the dining room, aggressively adjusting his silk tie while sweating through his custom-tailored dress shirt. On the white velvet sofa sat Mr. and Mrs. Henderson—impeccably dressed, stoic, and radiating the quiet, intimidating aura of old money. Todd’s fiancée, Victoria Henderson, was gracefully sipping a glass of lukewarm tap water, looking around the barren dining table with an arched, increasingly suspicious brow.
“Linda, darling,” Mrs. Henderson said, checking her diamond-encrusted watch with an air of mild amusement. “You mentioned an artisanal dining experience? It’s past six o'clock, and I don't even smell garlic. Is the private chef preparing the first course in the prep kitchen?”
Linda’s face was an unnatural shade of chalky white beneath her heavy foundation. Her hands trembled as she clutched her wine glass.
“Oh, Eleanor, you know how these boutique culinary artists are!” Linda laughed, a shrill, nervous sound that sounded like metal scraping against glass. “Perfection takes time! Todd, sweetheart, why don't you pour Mr. Henderson another splash of that lovely scotch while I... check on the pantry?”
Linda practically sprinted into the kitchen, grabbing Megan by the arm so hard the younger girl yelped. Ryan was standing by the refrigerator, looking like a condemned prisoner awaiting the firing squad.
“Did you call the concierge catering service?!” Linda hissed, her eyes wild.
“Yes!” Megan whispered back frantically, waving her phone. “Chef Julian’s team! They have an emergency banquet team on call for club members! They can have a full roasted tenderloin platter, poached salmon, truffle mashed potatoes, and hors d'oeuvres here in twenty-five minutes!”
Linda let out a massive sigh of relief, clutching her chest. “Oh, thank God. Thank God. How much?”
“Two thousand four hundred dollars for the rush order,” Megan said casually, pulling a sleek, matte-black credit card from Linda’s designer leather clutch on the counter. “I’m giving them the numbers for the family corporate business card right now.”
Ryan’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. His face drained of whatever color was left.
“Wait!” Ryan lunged forward, trying to grab the card from Megan’s hand. “Megan, stop! Don't run that card!”
“Get off me, Ryan!” Megan snapped, slapping his hand away. “Do you want Todd’s future in-laws to walk out of this house and tell the entire country club that the Montgomery family serves tap water and empty promises?! We have to pay the rush fee!”
“You don't understand!” Ryan stammered, panic lacing every syllable. “That’s not Mom’s card!”
“Of course it’s our card, you idiot,” Linda snapped, glaring at her eldest son with deep disgust. “It has our family business name on the account line! I’ve used it for the club florist, I used it for Todd’s golf tournament sponsor fee, and I’m using it tonight to fix the disaster your pathetic little wife created!”
Megan quickly punched the sixteen digits, expiration date, and CVV into the catering company’s mobile payment link.
“There,” Megan smirked, hitting the glowing green button. “Authorized. Crisis averted. Now, when Chloe comes crawling back to apologize, we’ll make sure she reimburses us for—”
*Beep.*
A harsh, crimson notification flashed on the screen of Megan’s phone.
**[TRANSACTION DECLINED: ERROR CODE 04 - ACCOUNT FROZEN BY PRIMARY CARDHOLDER]**
Megan stared at the screen. “Wait. What? It declined?”
“Try it again!” Linda hissed, her heart skipping a beat. “You probably typed the zip code wrong!”
Megan frantically re-entered the digits, her manicured fingers trembling. She submitted the payment a second time.
*Beep.*
**[TRANSACTION DECLINED: CARD SUSPENDED - CONTACT CATERING VENTURES LLC DISPATCH]**
“Why does it say Catering Ventures LLC?!” Linda demanded, grabbing Megan’s phone and glaring at the screen. “Ryan! What is this?! Why is Todd’s business card tied to an LLC we don't recognize?!”
Ryan slowly sank against the kitchen counter, burying his face in his hands. He began to shake his head, the pathetic, cowardly facade he had maintained for years finally collapsing under the weight of reality.
“Ryan,” Linda growled, her voice dropping into a menacing whisper. “Look at me. Whose card is this? Who has been paying the business balance every month? Who paid for Todd’s golf tournament? Who paid for this house’s property taxes last spring?!”
Ryan looked up, his eyes bloodshot, his lips trembling.
May you like
“It’s Chloe,” Ryan whimpered. “It’s all Chloe.”
***
