Chapter 2 - Declined in Florence
Three days later, the medical team permitted me to sit up in bed. My blood pressure had stabilized, and the risk of immediate labor had retreated, though I was still under 24-hour observation.
My phone rang at 2:15 PM local time. The caller ID displayed an international number: Florence, Italy.
I let it ring three times before sliding my thumb across the screen and placing the phone on speaker.
“Claire!” my mother’s voice shrieked through the speaker, high-pitched, frantic, and entirely devoid of her usual polished composure. “What on earth is going on with the cards? We are standing in the lobby of the Grand Hotel Baglioni with six pieces of luggage, and the front desk clerk just told us both of our credit cards were declined!”
I reached over, picked up a glass of ice water, and took a slow, deliberate sip. “Good afternoon, Mom.”
“Don’t you ‘good afternoon’ me!” Evelyn yelled. The background noise suggested a crowded, opulent lobby. “Your father tried his card, I tried mine, and even the emergency backup card wouldn’t go through! The concierge looked at us as if we were common vagrants! Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?”
“I imagine it’s quite inconvenient,” I replied softly.
My father’s booming voice cut into the call, sounding breathless and furious. “Claire, fix this immediately! Call the bank! We have a private dinner reservation in an hour, and the hotel won’t even release our room keys until the incidental deposit is authorized!”
“I can’t fix it, Dad,” I said, setting my glass down.
There was a brief, stunned pause on the line.
“What do you mean you can’t fix it?” Arthur demanded. “It’s your account! Did you forget to make the monthly transfer?”
“I didn’t forget,” I said, my voice steady, cold, and entirely unyielding. “I canceled the monthly transfer. I also canceled the credit cards, revoked your authorized user status, and frozen all auxiliary funds.”
A sharp gasp echoed from my mother’s side of the line. “You... you did what? Claire, are you out of your mind? We are in Italy!”
“And I was on my kitchen floor bleeding at thirty-two weeks pregnant while my baby’s heart rate was dropping,” I reminded her, every word landing like an iron weight. “When I called you begging for help, you told me you couldn’t cancel your vacation over something so ridiculous. You told me to call an ambulance and hung up on me so you wouldn’t miss your flight.”
“We couldn’t do anything from the airport!” Evelyn shrieked defensively, her voice trembling with rising panic. “The tickets were non-refundable! You were exaggerating like you always do!”
“I wasn’t exaggerating, Mom. I was in premature labor. Daniel is dead, and I was alone in that emergency room.”
“Well, you’re fine now, aren’t you?” Arthur interjected, his tone turning sharp and manipulative. “You’re calling us, so obviously the doctors handled it! That’s what hospitals are for, Claire! Now stop this absurd, emotional temper tantrum and call Northern Trust to unlock the cards! We need twenty thousand dollars transferred to our hotel account right now!”
I looked down at my pregnant belly, placing a hand over the spot where little Maya kicked softly against my palm.
“No,” I said.
“Claire!” Evelyn cried out. “Where are we supposed to go? How are we supposed to pay for the hotel?”
“That is for the two of you to figure out,” I said. “You’re adults. You’ve been telling me for years how experienced and wise you are. Figure it out.”
“You ungrateful, selfish little brat!” Arthur roared into the phone. “After everything we did for you? After raising you? We gave you everything!”
“You gave me nothing that I didn’t pay back ten times over,” I said softly. “Oh, and Dad? One more thing.”
“What?” he spat.
“Mara Levin served a fourteen-day notice to vacate on the Lake Geneva property yesterday morning. The local sheriff’s department posted the notice on the front gate. The locks will be changed on Monday. If either of you step foot on the property after that date, you will be arrested for criminal trespass.”
“You... you can’t kick us out of our house!” Evelyn screamed, her voice cracking into pure hysteria. “That is our home!”
“It’s my house, Mom. Purchased with my money, titled in my name, and held by my trust. You were guests who overstayed your welcome.”
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I didn’t wait for their response. I ended the call, blocked both of their international numbers, and handed the phone to the nurse who had walked in with my afternoon vitals.
“If any calls come through from Italy,” I told the nurse with a quiet smile, “please decline them.”
