Friday afternoon, Roland sent over a string of room numbers.
"Relatives have arrived. Book the rooms for them."
The tone took it for granted, as if I still owed it to his whole family to clean up their messes.
I forwarded him the price list.
"Pick the room types yourself."
He came back with three question marks.
"The front desk knows you. Have them open the rooms first."
"The hotel only accepts confirmation from the person responsible."
He called.
"Lorraine, everyone coming today is family of mine. You're making me go handle the front desk myself?"
"Whoever pays for the rooms is the one who confirms them."
The line went quiet for a few seconds.
Then he listed the room types.
"Six executive rooms, four suites."
I had the front desk send him the order.
Once he'd signed, another message came through.
"My cousin wants the lounge booked out for the night. Set up the game room and spa passes too."
I forwarded it to Kayla.
Kayla had the service department itemize the costs.
"Buyout, twenty thousand. Game room, sixteen thousand. Spa passes, eight hundred each."
I sent the list to Roland.
He replied:
"All of it."
I answered:
"Please confirm the groom is responsible for the charges."
He sent back one word.
"Confirmed."
Rosamond followed with a voice message.
"The marital suite needs the full red bedding set, dragon-and-phoenix candles on the nightstand, double-happiness cutouts on the door, and candied dates and peanuts laid out in the room."
I sent over the open-flame policy.
She typed back, cursing me.
"Who do you think you are, throwing rules at me now? Every time you came through my door, wasn't it always my word that counted?"
"You're being asked to help put on a wedding, and that's Roland doing you a favor. You really think a divorce means you get to stand up straight in front of me?"
I didn't argue. I just had the concierge department contact her directly.
But she wouldn't let it go, and fired off another list of demands.
"Send me slippers, ten more sets of makeup remover, and three late-night snacks tonight."
I turned the requests into a service order.
Roland called once he saw the charges.
"You're charging for little things like this too?"
"Late-night snacks, supplies, labor. Everything has a price."
"You never used to nickel-and-dime like this."
"Before, you were my husband. Now you're a client."
Rosamond's voice came through in the background.
"Why waste your breath on her? She's just jealous, isn't she?"
"Roland, the more you fuss over money, the more she thinks she's got you where she wants you. Spend what needs spending. We do not cut corners on this wedding. I want her to see with her own eyes how well you live without her, and I want her to know Delia is walking into a spread she couldn't have earned in this lifetime."
Roland was silent for a moment.
"You heard her. Do all of it."
"And don't think a few bills are going to scare me. Lorraine, the money you make, part of it was always mine to begin with."
I sent one more line.
"Please confirm."
He paused two seconds.
Then he added another line.
"Happy now? Counting money is about all you've got left."
Delia posted photos of the marital suite on her feed.
The caption read: The ones who are cherished don't have to worry about a thing.
Someone asked in the comments:
"Why is the ex-wife still there running around at the venue?"
I didn't reply.
I pulled together three months of supplementary-card charges.
The total came to ninety-seven thousand six hundred forty.
I sent the spreadsheet to my lawyer.
In the middle of the night, Kayla forwarded a voice message.
Rosamond had sent it to the wrong group.
"She's paying this time whether she wants to or not. She's got a company, she's got hotel connections. So what if she covers a wedding for my son?"
Kayla asked:
"Do you want me to let her know she sent it to the wrong chat?"
"No."
I replied in the hotel group.
"Received. Logged."
Roland messaged me privately soon after.
"Don't take what my mom said seriously."
"Lorraine, don't push this too far."
"However harsh my mom is, she's still an elder. If you dare make trouble with that recording, I promise you'll never land a single job in this industry again."
