My parents were obsessed with having a “perfect” vacation. When my six-year-old got carsick on the highway, the mask fell. My mother slapped her and shoved a plastic bag at her, screaming, “Don’t ruin my leather seats, you little pig!” I tried to stop her—she shoved me back.

“Get out,” he growled.

“What?” I stared at him.

“Get out!” His face was purple with rage. “I’m not driving another mile with that smell!”

“It’s pouring rain,” I said. “We’re on a bridge.”

“I don’t care. Walk. Maybe the rain will wash the filth off.”

He ripped my door open and yanked my arm.

I stumbled onto the wet asphalt with Lily, soaked instantly by the freezing rain.

“You ruin everything,” he sneered.

He grabbed my handbag and hurled it over the guardrail.

Then he slammed the trunk shut.

“Find your own way home.”

The car roared away, spraying us with filthy water.

I held Lily as the taillights vanished.

“Is Grandpa mad?” she whispered.

“No,” I said calmly. “Grandpa is finished.”

I retrieved my soaked purse. Inside, my phone was dry.

80% battery.

Enough.

---

Chapter 3: The Cancellation

I carried Lily under the overpass and wrapped her in my coat.

“We’re playing a game,” I said softly. “I press buttons, and bad people lose privileges.”

First: Uber Black.

Then: American Express.
“Void the hotel authorization. Flag the card.”

Done.

Hertz next.
“Unauthorized driver. Terminate the contract.”

Recovery initiated. Police notified.

Finally, Delta.
“Cancel their return tickets.”

Done.

The SUV arrived warm and silent.