My Husband Mocked My ‘Little’ Farm Business — Until I Froze His Black Card In Front Of His Boss
Part 1
I stood near the massive marble kitchen island stirring the ice in my glass of aged bourbon.
The clinking of crystal champagne flutes echoed through our sprawling Buckhead mansion.
It was my husband Tyler’s fortieth birthday party.
He had transformed our ground floor into a lavish showcase of his perceived wealth.
I was minding my own business when Tyler marched toward me.
His custom tuxedo hugged his frame perfectly.
He slammed a thick piece of paper onto the marble countertop.
It slid hard until it hit the base of my drink.
I glanced down at the final invoice from the luxury catering company.
The bold numbers at the bottom read exactly twenty-five thousand dollars.
Pay this right now.
Tyler projected his voice over the live jazz band to ensure nearby guests heard him.
I am busy entertaining my investors.
You need to handle this immediately.
I picked up the invoice and ran my thumb over the expensive textured paper.
You want me to pay a bill for a party you insisted on throwing for yourself?
Tyler let out a harsh laugh.
Yes, Megan, I do.
You work from home in your sweatpants all day dealing with dirt and vegetables.
Meanwhile, I am the director of innovations at a major financial firm.
Since you do not contribute anything of real financial value to this household, the least you can do is cover the food.
The heavy scent of expensive floral perfume hit my nose.
My mother-in-law Brenda stepped up beside Tyler.
She looked me up and down.
Honestly, Megan, is that what you chose to wear to my son’s milestone celebration?
You should be writing that check with a massive smile just to show your gratitude for the roof he put over your head.
I took a slow sip of my bourbon.
For five years, they genuinely believed my agricultural logistics network was just a cute little hobby.
I had quietly built a multi-million dollar corporate empire from my home office.
Tyler pointed a manicured finger at my chest.
Do not embarrass me tonight.
My boss is going to be here any minute.
The heavy mahogany front doors swung open with a dramatic thud.
Tyler practically shoved his shoulder into my collarbone to get past me.
He hurried toward the entryway like an obedient dog.
Please welcome the youngest vice president at our investment firm, Heather!
Heather stepped into the foyer wearing a skintight crimson silk dress.
Tyler grabbed her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek.
You look absolutely incredible tonight.
Heather rested her manicured hand flat against Tyler’s chest.
Brenda floated over to Heather and grasped both of her hands warmly.
Heather soaked up the praise before her gaze lazily drifted across the room and landed on me.
She closed the distance between us.
Her high heels clicked sharply against the marble floor.
You must be the domestic help.
She shrugged off her heavy white mink coat and practically threw it into my chest.
Be a sweetheart and hang this up.
Ensure it does not touch anything damp.
Fetch me a dirty martini, three olives, and do not make me wait.
Tyler stood right next to her watching his boss treat his wife like a hired servant.
Did you not hear our VIP guest?
Take the coat and go to the kitchen.
Stop standing there like a statue.
I looked at the heavy fur coat draped over my arms.
I opened my arms and stepped back.
The luxurious fur plummeted to the polished marble floor.
Heather let out a sharp shriek.
That is a custom piece!
Pick that up right now!
I shifted my weight forward deliberately.
I placed the sharp heel of my black stiletto directly onto the center of the white mink.
Tyler lunged forward.
You are going to apologize to my boss right now or I will pack your cheap bags myself!
I calmly looked down at his hand wrapped around my wrist.
Take your hand off me, Tyler.
He released his grip.
I picked up the catering invoice.
I gripped the top of the paper with both hands and ripped it straight down the middle.
The sound echoed like a gunshot over the smooth jazz music.
I opened my hands and let the shredded pieces flutter down onto Heather’s ruined mink coat.
What is wrong with you?
I will pay for it myself!
He reached into his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a sleek black credit card.
He slammed it onto the marble counter with a resounding clack.
This is a limitless elite account.
I will pay the bill right now and then I am calling my lawyers in the morning.
I looked at the heavy black card resting on the marble.
I knew the exact account number and the security code on the back.
Is that right?
You are going to pay for this extravagant party using that specific black card?
Watch me.
Tyler grabbed his phone from his pocket.
I reached into my own clutch and pulled out my phone.
I unlocked the screen and opened my private banking application.
I navigated to the secondary user management tab.
For five years, I had allowed him to swipe that card to fund his expensive suits and luxury car leases.
I let him pretend he was the king of the castle.
You are absolutely right about one thing, Tyler.
This party is over.
I pressed the digital toggle switch on my screen.
A split second later, a loud obnoxious alarm blared from Tyler’s hand.
His phone screen lit up with a high priority alert.
He frowned and looked down at his screen.
I watched the smirk vanish from his lips.
The blood drained from his face as he stared at the glaring red text flashing on his screen.
