"Management is handling access legally."
Dave nodded slowly.
"Good."
"You sound disappointed."
"I'm proud. I just wanted to make sure your risk-manager revenge fantasy included counsel."
"It isn't revenge."
"It feels a little like revenge."
I considered that.
"Maybe emotionally. But every action is just me removing my name from an obligation."
"Fair."
He raised his glass.
"To being replaceable."
I almost told him not to. Then I clinked mine against his. At 8:37, my phone lit up with a banking notification. Transaction declined. $485.
SDC Steakhouse. Authorized-user card ending in 4098. I stared at it. Dave leaned over.
"What?"
I showed him. He let out a low whistle. Two minutes later, another attempt. Declined.
Same amount. Five minutes later: $12.00 rideshare authorization. Declined. Dave looked at me.
"I think someone has discovered the new economy."
I took a sip of whiskey. The first wave of emotion was not satisfaction. It was dread. Because I knew exactly what came next.
Dave's phone rang. He frowned at the screen. Then turned it toward me. SARAH.
"Why is she calling me?"
I looked at the phone. For the first time since Tuesday, I wanted to hear her voice. Not because I wanted her back. Because some part of me still needed confirmation that the separation had finally become real to both of us.
"Answer it," I said.
Dave hesitated.
"You sure?"
"Speaker."
He tapped the screen.
"Hello?"
Sarah's voice burst through before he finished the word.
"Dave? Oh my God, thank God. Is Mark with you?"
Dave looked at me before answering.