Becca sat in the passenger seat, checking her reflection in her phone camera. Matthew was in the back with Jessie while Liam and Jonah argued over a tablet.
As I pulled up to departures, Becca sighed and said, “Well. Despite your little mood, this turned out to be a lovely Easter.”
Matthew didn’t even look up. “Becca,” he warned.
“What?” She turned to me with the same bright, smug smile she’d worn all weekend. “We were great guests, weren’t we?”
The drive to the airport was quiet.
I got out, opened the trunk, and handed her Jessie’s pink backpack.
“Of course,” I said. “And your surprise is already waiting for you.”
Her forehead creased. “What surprise?”
“You’ll see.”
They made it halfway to the airline desk before the first crack showed.
I followed behind and watched it unfold.
‘What surprise?
I watched Becca’s body go stiff as the agent said something. A second employee walked over and handed Matthew a slim envelope.
He frowned. “What’s this?”
Becca reached for it. “Nothing. Give it here.”
He pulled it back and opened it anyway. His expression changed immediately.
He stared at his wife. “Did you use Talia’s card for the flight too?”
Liam tugged his sleeve. “Dad? Is Aunt Talia coming with us? She’s there.”
Becca turned so fast she nearly dropped her bag. “Talia?”
“Nothing. Give it here.”
I walked toward them, one step at a time.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I protected my son’s money,” I said.
The airline agent cleared her throat. “Ma’am, the payment method used for these upgrades was reported as unauthorized. The first-class seats have been voided, and the booking is under review. If you still wish to travel today, you’ll need to purchase new seats with a valid card.”
Matthew stared at his wife like he didn’t know her. “You used her card while she was home bleeding from surgery?”
‘What did you do?’
Becca’s face went hot. “I said I was going to pay it back.”
I held her gaze. “You kept calling yourself a guest. Guests don’t steal.”
Jessie started crying. Jonah grabbed the suitcase handle. Liam just stood there, blinking like the floor had shifted under him.
Becca fumbled for her phone with shaking fingers. “Mom,” she whispered when Deborah answered. “I need money. Right now.”
I turned and walked away.
‘You kept calling yourself a guest. Guests don’t steal.’
***
My phone rang as I turned into my driveway.
Deborah, of course.
I answered, and Deborah went straight to screaming. I let her finish.
“She used my card,” I said. “For a stupidly fancy dinner that they wasted and for first-class tickets home, while I’m trying to recover from my C-section and look after your grandson.”
Silence.
Then came her soft voice. “You could’ve handled this privately.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But private is how Becca gets away with things. Thomas and I are done with this.”
I hung up.
A week later, the money was back, Spencer’s new crib was assembled, and the stroller stood by the door.
For the first time since I had my son, my home felt quiet, safe, and mine again.
