Five minutes after my divorce was final, my father gripped my arm outside the courthouse and said, “Block every card, right now.” That night my ex tried to spend $300,000 on his mistress’s sapphire necklace with my company’s black card — in a club my firm owned.

“Sir. I’m sorry. The card was declined.”

“Run it again.”

“We did, sir.”

“Use the backup.”

Trevor had a second number, I’d learn, a travel card he’d also saved.

“Those were declined as well, sir.”

Vanessa stopped smiling.

Trevor grabbed the bill, looked at the total, and went white.

And that’s when the manager of The Sapphire Room, a man named Desmond who’d known me for twelve years, came to the private suite with two things.

A card reader.

And a question.

“Mr. Shaw,” Desmond said. “The membership you’re using belongs to Marchetti Interiors. We received a notice from the member this afternoon removing you as an authorized guest, effective immediately. I’m afraid I can’t let the charges stand. And I have to ask, because our policy requires it: how did you intend to pay for a Marchetti Interiors purchase, when you are no longer with Marchetti Interiors, or with Ms. Marchetti?”