“What, it's not enough? Here, take another one. Just disappear from my sight.”
She was too furious to believe I had spent less than thirty dollars.
She threw the card statements in my face and shouted, “Cut the crap! Are you saying the bank statements are wrong? Just look at all the stuff you bought! I've never seen a man so fake, so shameless, such a damn freeloader!”
The long receipt floated to the floor. I didn’t even bother glancing at it.
But one of my overly curious coworkers picked it up and gasped after reading it, staring at me in disbelief.
“Gabriel, your spending habits are next-level—you’re like a walking money shredder!”
They all started passing the statement around, reading aloud the list of charges: luxury boutiques, high-end jewelry stores, five-star hotels...
In just three days, the entire five hundred thousand dollars limit had been spent across over a dozen purchases.
I snatched the statement back, gave it a quick look, and pointed to the only two charges that were mine—the two modest takeout meals.
“These two are the only ones I swiped the card for. The rest wasn't mine.”
Phoebe laughed in disbelief, like I’d just told the world’s best joke. Her eyes were full of scorn.