She said one word.
Fine.
Then she opened her purse.
Javier settled back in his chair with the satisfied expression of a man who believes he has just demonstrated something important about how situations resolve when he applies enough pressure.
Clara did not take out her card.
She took out her phone.
Her hands were not entirely steady. But her thinking was completely clear. She was not going to cry. She was not going to raise her voice. She was not going to give either of the people sitting across from her the kind of dramatic reaction they had either expected or hoped for.
She called the waiter over and asked, quietly and directly, to speak with the manager. She also asked for security.
The waiter looked at her face, still damp, her dress still stained, and nodded without hesitation.
Javier told her not to make things worse.
She opened her banking application and turned the screen toward him. She explained that the account he expected her to use was a joint account funded primarily by her own income. She told him she had no intention of using her money to pay for the privilege of being humiliated in public.
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