Outside the courthouse, he delivered his final insult.
I looked at him calmly.
“I hope you never have to find out who was actually supporting whom.”
That afternoon,
I visited my bank.
My account manager, Michael, reviewed the three additional premium credit cards issued to Andrew, Margaret, and his sister, Lauren.
All three were attached to my personal accounTS.
“I’d like their cards canceled effective eight tomorrow morning,” I said.
Michael checked the records.
“What about Mrs. Collins’s medical expenses?”
“Keep her treatment and insurance payments covered for another three monThS. Their flights and hotel for the Florida vacation are already paid for, so leave those alone.”
I paused.
“I just won’t finance their new purchases anymore.”
That evening, I notified Lauren and Andrew in writing.
Lauren accused me of being bitter.
Andrew said I had no right to embarrass his family.
At nine-thirty the next morning, my phone rang.
Andrew was shouting over airport announcemenTS.
“My mother’s crying in front of everyone! All three cards were declined at the VIP lounge! Call your bank and fix this!”
Behind him, Margaret’s voice rose angrily.
“That ungrateful woman has no right to take away what my son earned!”
I listened for a moment.
Then I realized Andrew still had absolutely no idea whose money his family had been spending.
Part 2: My Ex-Husband Demanded His Family’s Credit Cards Back—Then His Accountant Revealed a $1.7 Million Problem
“Andrew, those credit cards were never yours,” I told my ex-husband as he shouted from the airport.
“They were additional cards linked to my personal accounTS. I canceled them yesterday, exactly as I warned you.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then his voice dropped.
“Are you telling me we’ve been spending your money all these years?”
“I’m telling you that you never bothered to ask.”
His mother, Margaret, grabbed the phone and accused me of humiliating her family.
She insisted that Andrew was a successful businessman and that I should be grateful for everything he’d provided.
I reminded her that her medical insurance, upcoming treatments, flights, and hotel reservations were still paid for.
The only thing I’d stopped financing was their shopping, expensive dinners, and luxury purchases.
Then I ended the call.
I sat quietly in my kitchen, feeling an unexpected sadness.
For years, I’d paid those expenses because I considered them family, while they treated my generosity as something they were entitled to receive.
Ten minutes later, my phone rang again.
This time, it was Patricia Hayes, the accountant who had worked with Andrew since his company operated out of a small rented office.
“Rebecca, there’s something you need to know,” she said.