Page 2 — The Call That Told Me Everything
Seven days after the wedding I wasn’t invited to, my phone rang.
Lena.
She didn’t bother with small talk.
“Renata! The rent hasn’t been paid.”
Not “Hi.”
Not “How are you?”
Not “I’m sorry.”
Just: the rent.
Like I was their accounting department.
I let the silence stretch just long enough for her to get uncomfortable.
“Renata?” she pushed. “The landlord is threatening us. You forgot to transfer it.”
I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t argue the wedding. I didn’t mention the photos.
I just said, calmly:
“Didn’t I already explain?”
She blinked through the phone. I could hear it.
“Explain what?”
“That I only help special people.”
Silence.
Then the scramble—because entitlement always turns into panic when the funding stops.
“Renata, I don’t understand. You’re like a second mom to me. We were always special—”
“No,” I said, still calm. “You were comfortable. There’s a difference.”
Her voice sharpened. “So you’re punishing us because you weren’t invited?”
Here’s the thing: that question is the tell.
It admits what they did was intentional. It also reveals how they see me: a tool with feelings that are inconvenient.
“I’m not punishing you,” I replied. “I’m correcting my mistake.”
I ended the call.
Keep reading—because I thought it would stop there. I was wrong. When people feel entitled to your money, they don’t just get angry—they get strategic.
