At the same time, I logged into the company portal and canceled every platinum corporate credit card they were using to finance their luxurious tropical vacation.

A week later, the consequences came pounding at my front door.

I was standing in my downtown condo kitchen, peacefully drinking my morning coffee, when frantic pounding shook the frame.

I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

My father stood there, red-faced and sweating through an expensive designer shirt, trembling with such rage he could barely form a sentence.

My father’s chest heaved as he stood in the doorway.

His face was dark crimson, his hair disheveled, and his hands curled into tight fists as he stared at me with pure fury.

He didn’t say hello.

He didn’t ask how I was.

“You insane, ungrateful little brat!” my father roared, his voice echoing loudly down the quiet hallway of my condo building. He shoved past me uninvited, storming into my living room as if he still owned the place. “You absolute psycho! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Your mother is sitting in a Maui hotel room crying her eyes out because every single one of our credit cards was declined at a five-star resort restaurant, and our corporate accounts have been completely wiped clean!”