I Finally Took My Ex-Husband’s “Three-Thousand-Dollar” Card to the Bank—Then the Manager Brought Out an Envelope with My Name

I put the confirmation in my handbag.

Patricia looked at the old card beside the papers.

“Can he stop it later?” she asked.

“I am going to ask Thomas that again,” I said.

“I want the answer in the part of the document I can find myself.”

She almost smiled.

“That sounds like you.”

“It is me.”