The apartment was eerily quiet. No shouting, no pleading—just the sound of Daniel Carter placing a final suitcase by the door. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple as he turned to face Mandi. She stood in the center of the living room, arms crossed, her eyes wet but defiant.
"That’s it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You’re just… done?"
Daniel sighed. "Mandi, we’ve had this conversation a hundred times. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve covered every bill, paid off every debt, and every time I think you’ll take control of your spending, you don’t."
She scoffed. "So what? That’s a reason to end a marriage? Money?"
"It’s not just money," he said, voice calm but firm. "It’s trust. Responsibility. Every time you promised to change, you didn’t. We budgeted together, we made plans, and you ignored them. I gave you access to everything, and you burned through it like it was nothing."
Her jaw clenched. "So what now? You’re just leaving me with nothing?"
Daniel picked up a tablet from the counter and tapped the screen. "I’ve transferred a stipend into your personal account. It’s enough to get you through the next few months while you find a job and get on your feet. But after that, Mandi… you’re on your own."
She swallowed hard, glancing at the screen as the notification popped up on her wrist implant. The amount was generous, but the finality of it hit harder than she expected.
"You don’t have to do this," she tried one last time. "We could fix this."
Daniel shook his head. "I already did everything I could."
And just like that, it was over.
Mandi had made the money last longer than she thought she would. But no matter how much she tried to pace herself, the urge was always there. The thrill of a new purchase, the high of possession. A few luxuries, a few impulse buys—until there was nothing left.
She had gone back to Daniel, of course.
"I can’t believe you’re doing this to me," she had said, arms folded, glaring at him across his office desk.
Daniel had leaned back, his expression unreadable. "I gave you a chance, Mandi. I told you this was it. You need to stand on your own."
"I just need a little more time."
"It’s been a year."
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She bit her lip, her anger bubbling beneath the surface. "You have more than enough. It wouldn’t even make a dent for you."
Daniel sighed. "That’s not the point. The point is, you have to learn to manage on your own. I can’t keep bailing you out."
She had stormed out, fury burning in her veins. He wouldn’t help her. Fine. She’d help herself.
The bank lobby was quiet, efficient, and nearly empty. A few customers walked past the entrance scanner, their barcodes flashing green as the system logged them in. No cards, no paperwork—just a flick of the wrist under the sensor, and every detail of their financial history was at their fingertips.
Mandi stepped up to the counter, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She gave the teller a warm, confident smile. “Hi, I need to access my joint account with Daniel Carter. He asked me to pull some funds while he’s away.”
The teller, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, returned the smile. “Of course. Just scan in, and I’ll bring up the account.”
Mandi nodded and rolled up her sleeve, waving her forearm under the scanner. The monitor beeped, and for a brief moment, she relaxed—until the teller’s face fell.
“Ms. Rivera,” he said, his voice turning neutral, “your name isn’t on this account.”
She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Oh, there must be a mistake. Daniel and I used to share everything. Maybe he forgot to update the system?”
The teller gave a small, tight-lipped smile and tapped a button under his desk. Within seconds, a security officer approached—tall, expressionless, barcode scanner in hand.
“Ms. Rivera, would you mind verifying your identity?” the officer asked.
Mandi hesitated. “I just did.”
“Then you won’t mind a second scan.” His tone was polite but firm. He lifted the scanner, and a red beam swept over her forearm. A loud denied tone echoed through the quiet bank.
Mandi’s heart pounded.
The officer glanced at his display. “You and Mr. Carter haven’t shared an account in over a year. He removed you the day after the separation was finalized.” His eyes lifted to hers. “Attempting unauthorized access is a criminal offense.”
She opened her mouth, but there was no argument to make. The system didn’t lie.
The officer gestured to the door. “Let’s go.”
She was processed within the hour. Financial crimes were treated seriously in the United World, and Mandi had a record of reckless spending that flagged her as a high-risk citizen.
A single infraction would have been one thing. A repeated pattern of financial irresponsibility and attempted fraud? That was something else entirely.
She sat in the stark white holding room, staring at the contract in front of her. Exile. That was the solution. The colonies always needed workers. Those who could not manage themselves, those who were a burden to society, were sent elsewhere to earn their keep.
A quiet, sterile voice came through the intercom. "Sign the document, Ms. Rivera. Your new assignment awaits."
Her hands trembled as she lifted the pen.
The transport ship was full of people like her. Not criminals in the traditional sense, but those who had, in one way or another, been deemed liabilities.
A man beside her, thin and weary, leaned forward. "First time?"
She nodded, gripping the seat’s edge.
"Don’t worry," he said. "The colonies aren’t so bad. Hard work, but… better than staying. Better than the alternative."
Mandi swallowed. The alternative. Those who didn’t agree to exile didn’t get to stay in the United World. They simply ceased to be.
The ship’s engines roared to life, and she closed her eyes as the cabin shuddered. This wasn’t what she had imagined. Not at all.
As the ship broke through the atmosphere, She felt the last thread of her old life snap.
No fuss. No mistakes. No second chances.