“Is the card theft true?” one asked.
Rage surged inside me. I opened PayPal, produced our marriage certificate, and showed it to them.
“We’re legally married. My wife’s card is in another man’s hands. He’s spent over fifty million dollars without my knowledge. If that’s not theft, then what is it?”
Andrew sneered confidently.
“I didn’t steal it. My girlfriend gave it to me! Of course, I can spend her money.”
He turned to Victoria with smug assurance.
“Honey, tell them. Did you give me this card, or did I steal it?”
She froze, her eyes flickering toward me, hesitation breaking through for a single second. That second enraged him. He slapped her arm sharply.
“What’s that supposed to mean, Victoria? Can’t bear to let him go?”
“No, Andrew, don’t get upset,” she soothed, clinging to his waist. Then she faced the police, her voice steady.
“It’s a misunderstanding. I gave him the card. It wasn’t stolen. He has my permission to use it.”
With those words, I became the fool.
The police, realizing this was more emotional conflict than crime, gave us a cold warning.
“Resolve your personal issues properly. Don’t waste police resources.”