Story code: ST-001348
Part 2: The Forest Green Sleeve
The notification banner remained at the top of Jordan’s screen for a few seconds. From my position behind the podium, I could easily read the bold text: Alert: Transaction approved at Aurelia Vane Flagship Store for $1,250.00.
Jordan did not press the transfer button. Instead, he swiped the notification down, opening the transaction history of the shared family account.
Sarah’s hand twitched. She reached out, trying to grab the edge of his phone, but Jordan stepped back, keeping the screen fully in view.
“What is that?” Jordan asked, his voice entirely flat.
“It’s nothing,” Sarah said, her heels scraping against the concrete as she shifted her weight. “Probably an old automatic payment. Jordan, we don’t have time for this. My parking meter is running, and your boarding time is in twenty minutes. Just complete the wire.”
Jordan scrolled through the list. He stopped at a line item from three days prior. “Aurelia Vane online store,” he read aloud. “Eight hundred and forty dollars. And another charge today at the terminal location for twelve hundred and fifty.”
He looked up, his eyes moving from the screen to the forest green leather sleeve in her hand. The brass interlocking logo caught the bright afternoon sun.
“I told you, the sleeve was a gift,” Sarah said, her voice growing sharper and more defensive. She stuffed the passport sleeve into her designer handbag, though the gold-leaf initials S.E. remained visible near the zipper. “And the other charge is for Dad’s clothing. The facility requires specific sensory-friendly garments. It’s all medical expenses, Jordan. How dare you audit me while I’m the one doing all the daily care?”
Jordan tapped the screen, pulling up the digital receipt details. The screen displayed an itemized list: a leather duffel bag, a matching cosmetic case, and a customized passport sleeve. The billing address on the receipt was the airport’s terminal boutique, processed less than an hour ago.
Sarah’s jaw tightened. She looked around the crowded curb, then leaned closer to Jordan, lowering her voice. “You think you’re so smart because you travel all the time. You have no idea what it costs to manage things here. I deserve to have nice things if I’m the one sacrificing my life for Dad. You owe me this money anyway.”
Jordan didn’t answer. He looked down at the phone screen, where the pending transfer of twenty-five thousand dollars was still waiting for his final authorization. The screen began to dim.
“Sir,” I said, adjusting the baggage tags in my hands. “I need to scan your boarding pass to check these bags, or you’re going to miss the baggage cutoff.”
Sarah turned to me, her eyes flashing. “Give us a minute. This is a family emergency.” She turned back to Jordan, her fingers wrapping tightly around the strap of her handbag. “If you don’t send it, Jordan, I’m walking away. I won’t visit him this weekend. I won’t coordinate his physical therapy. You can fly back from Tokyo and do it yourself.”
Jordan looked at her, his face completely devoid of expression. He didn’t argue. He simply tapped the back button on his banking app, exiting the transfer screen. Then, he pulled up the account management settings and began navigating to the security section.