Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light across polished marble floors. White and pink lilies filled every corner with their sweet perfume. Classical music played softly as champagne glasses clinked and laughter echoed through the grand living room.
Lucia stood at the center of it all, wearing a sparkling sequined gown, her face glowing under heavy makeup. She was surrounded by her wealthy friends—women she’d been desperate to impress for years.
“Lucia, this isn’t a house, it’s a palace,” one woman gasped. “Absolutely stunning.”
“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Lucia said with false modesty, flashing her new diamond ring. “It’s all thanks to Raphael. He’s such a devoted son-in-law. My daughter is so fortunate.”
Another woman leaned in. “But didn’t I hear that Barbara paid for—”
“Barbara works very hard,” Lucia interrupted smoothly, as if working hard was something to be ashamed of. “But Raphael is the one who guided her. Without him, Barbara would have nothing.”
Nearby, Raphael stood tall, smiling proudly. He felt like a champion—the golden son-in-law who made everyone happy, the perfect husband who’d delivered his in-laws their dream home.
Lissa moved through the crowd in her designer dress, accepting compliments, calling the house “our family estate” as if she’d contributed a single dollar to it.
Raphael glanced at his watch. Nearly an hour had passed since my last message.
“All right, son.”
Those two simple words had satisfied him completely. He thought it meant I’d accepted my place. That I was being obedient again.
He thought he had everything under control.
Then the event manager, Mr. Roberts, approached with a nervous expression, holding a tablet.
“Excuse me, Mr. Raphael, but the remaining fifty percent of the catering payment needs to be processed tonight.”
“Of course,” Raphael said smoothly, pulling out his platinum card—one of the supplementary cards I’d given him with no spending limit.
Mr. Roberts swiped it, waited, then frowned.
“I’m sorry, sir. The transaction was declined.”
Raphael laughed awkwardly. “Must be a connection issue. Try again.”
Mr. Roberts tried again.
Declined.
“The system says transaction not permitted.”
Whispers began spreading through the nearby guests.
Raphael’s face flushed. “I have another card,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
He pulled out a black card—another one from my account.
Mr. Roberts swiped it.
Declined.
“Sir, this card has been deactivated.”
“Deactivated?” Raphael’s voice rose. “That’s impossible.”
The whispers grew louder. Lissa hurried over, her face tight with concern.
“Raphael, what’s happening?”
Mr. Roberts spoke plainly. “The total bill is one hundred and ten thousand dollars. If payment isn’t received immediately, we’ll have to suspend service.”
“Suspend service?” Raphael nearly shouted. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’ll stop serving food and drinks. If payment isn’t made within thirty minutes, we’ll begin packing up.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Raphael’s voice cracked with panic.
Lucia noticed the commotion and rushed over, her smile vanishing.
“Raphael, what’s going on? Why does Mr. Roberts look upset?”
“His cards have been declined, ma’am,” Mr. Roberts said bluntly. “The party hasn’t been paid for.”
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