At dinner, my sister threw water on my pregnant wife’s dress and sneered, “Don’t sit there, that’s my spot.” My mom laughed, “Pregnancy makes you clumsy,” while my dad sent her to eat in the kitchen. My wife silently grabbed her coat. I grabbed my keys—and called the travel concierge. “Cancel the first-class flights and VIP Mediterranean cruise resort.” On Monday, my family arrived at the airport with designer luggage. Then security escorted them out.

“I have it right here, sir,” William confirmed after a few keystrokes. “Departing JFK tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM.”

“Cancel it.”

The line went silent for a fraction of a second. William was a professional, but the magnitude of the request caught him off guard.

“Sir?” William asked carefully. “The departure is less than fourteen hours away. We are well past the window for any substantial refund on the flights or the cruise suites. You will lose nearly the entire principal amount of the booking.”

 

“I don’t care about the refund, William. I don’t care if I lose every penny,” I stated, staring at the blank screen of my laptop, feeling a profound, terrifying calm settle deep into my bones. “Cancel the flights. Cancel the cruise reservations. Void the booking numbers.”

“Yes, Mr. Vance. Executing the cancellations now.”

 

“But,” I interrupted, a dark, surgical precision taking over my mind. “Leave the initial Black Car limousine service intact. I want the car to pick them up at 6:00 AM as scheduled. I want it to take them all the way to the airport. Let them get their luggage out. Let them walk up to the first-class check-in desk.”