Free Never Trust a Callboy by Birgit Kluger

it’s impossible, and more than two pieces of luggage will not fit in my car.
    I have to sort through it. I can’t take everything. It would be ridiculous if I can’t get by for a week or two with just two or three suitcases, especially when I add what I already have at the hotel.
    Another hour passes. I've spent most of this sixty minutes debating what to take. I'm on the fast lane to going crazy. But no one can expect me to leave the house without my Escada Jeans. And then there is my beautiful D&G skirt and my T-shirts. Every item is a favorite.
    When I finally finish, the dress mountain piled up on the double bed has actually gotten bigger. How could this happen?
    Nevertheless I do manage to pack everything. By the time the last item of clothing has disappeared into a case and the rows of shoes have been significantly reduced, five suitcases sit before me. I need a taxi and a van. But it doesn't matter. If I’m allowing myself the luxury of a five star hotel, I would like to appear at least a little stylish while I’m there.
    The only thing I have to do now is to collect my important documents from Ron's home office.
    I hate this room.
    As soon as you enter it you realize immediately that this is a man’s room. Everything is hard, noble and dignified. Dark oak, a thick carpet which attenuates each step, and a lamp with a green lampshade! Honestly. Ron has seen too many Westerns. He doesn't like to admit it, but in his youth, he was a fervent fan of John Wayne.
    Fortunately, the shelf with my documents and folders is only half full. At least this should go quickly. Impatiently I stack things in a moving box, which can for the time being go in the basement, and seal it with packing tape. Then I push it towards the door. The damn thing is heavier than I expected.
    Now all I need is my passport and birth certificate. Both should be in the top drawer of Ron's desk, in a folder I had organized containing all the documents we needed for the marriage. We were somewhat premature there. But that's not so bad for Ron, after all, he has someone new now.
    The contents of the drawer are quite messy. Which is strange, because normally Ron is obsessively tidy, he even aligns all the pens on his desk in the one direction. The folder must be here somewhere, just last week I had it in my hands because I...
    A bank statement interrupts my thoughts. The balance is enormously high. Since when does Ron have so much money?
    5 million euros! A bonus payment, which recently entered his account.

16
    S atisfied I lean back in the chair. The screen shows the message ‘Transaction successful’ for the last time. Thanks to Ron's carefully written documents I was able to not only login to all the accounts, but also carry out transfers. As expected he keeps the PIN generator, with which online payments must be authorized, in his safe.
    So I took care of a little justice and sent Ron's bonus payment to some offshore accounts. The money will then be transferred to his old savings account in a few days. He hasn’t used the savings account for fifteen years. He may even have forgotten its existence. I found the savings book a year ago with Ron's old tax records in the basement when I was looking for his tax report for him.
    Now it will come back to life, without his knowledge. Not for nothing do I come from a family of bankers.
    It will take a while before he can access his accounts again, because I also changed all his PIN codes at the same time, and told the bank about a change of address. A grin spreads across my face when I imagine how Ron will no longer be able to login. How, because he doesn't know his new PIN, even telephone banking will no longer work. And he doesn’t know his address ... This will be a nice mess!
    ––––––––
    "I 'm sure black leather furniture and chrome are the last thing that Ron would like to have in the living room."
    My mother looks at me challengingly. I haven’t yet told her that the wedding will not