Chapter 3 - The Rome Humiliation
Twenty hours later, my cell phone began to ring incessantly.
I was sitting in a luxury high-rise apartment I had just leased downtown, sipping a glass of expensive bourbon, watching the city lights.
The caller ID flashed: Dad (Cell).
I let it ring three times before calmly swiping to answer.
“Ethan!” my father bellowed, his voice echoing with sheer, arrogant entitlement. “Call your stupid bank right now! We are standing in the lobby of the Rome Luxury Suites, and the front desk manager is treating us like criminals! Your card keeps declining!”
In the background, I could hear Diane whining loudly about how her feet hurt and how embarrassing the situation was.
“I didn't authorize a nine-thousand-dollar charge, Dad,” I replied smoothly. “So I reported the card as stolen. Because it was.”
The line went dead silent. The cinematic tension of his absolute shock was palpable across the Atlantic Ocean.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Dad exploded, his voice cracking with rage. “We are your family! You have thousands in that account! Unfreeze the card right this second, Ethan, or there will be severe consequences when I get home!”
“You stole my card out of the safe, Dad,” I stated coldly, completely devoid of any human sympathy. “You booked a luxury vacation for five people, intentionally excluded me to my face, and expected me to fund it while you were in the air. The card stays frozen.”
“Ethan, you listen to me—”
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I didn't listen. I hung up the phone and blocked his number.
👉 Dad thought he could bully his quiet son into submission, but the devastating domino effect back in America had already begun.
