I tapped the "Manage Cards" tab. I selected "Elena - Supplementary."
Freeze card? Yes.
Report lost/stolen? Yes.
Reason: User no longer authorized.
The card was dead.
I went back to Chloe's text. I typed my reply slowly, making sure every word was accurate:
Me: She told me I was ruining the picture, so I removed myself from the picture. I'm almost home. Tell Julian to call an Uber. I'm sure he has the funds.
I hit send. Then I did something I should have done months ago: I went to my contact list.
Elena: Block caller.
Chloe: Block caller.
Julian: Block caller.
I put the phone down, filled the tank with premium gas, and bought a black coffee.
When I got back to the apartment, the silence was beautiful. It was 7:00 p.m. If they managed to get a ride, it would take them at least ninety minutes to get back—probably longer if they had to wait for a car that would accept a ride that far.
I didn't sit down. I went straight to the closet.
I didn't burn her clothes, and I didn't cut them up; that's dramatic, and I was done with drama. I grabbed three boxes of heavy-duty trash bags from under the sink. I went into the bedroom. I swept her skincare products off the vanity into a bag. I pulled her clothes off the hangers—the silk dresses, the aesthetic neutrals, the designer coats I had bought her—and stuffed them into bags. Shoes went into a separate bag.
I worked efficiently: bedroom, bathroom, living room. I took down the vision board she had put up in the hallway. I took down the ring light she left set up in the corner of the living room.
By 8:30 p.m., there were twelve large black trash bags sitting in the hallway outside our apartment door. I didn't put them in the dumpster; I wasn't throwing them away, I was just evicting them.