Evelyn, your 16-year-old daughter with a taste for luxury, strutted into the living room with her phone in hand, her pink-streaked hair bouncing as she plopped onto the couch.

“Mom,” she said sweetly, though you could hear the determination in her tone, “I need $5,000 for the new Chanel bag. It’s limited edition.”

You glanced up from your book, unimpressed. “Didn’t you already spend your $10,000 allowance this month?”

Evelyn pouted. “That was for necessities. This is different.”

“No,” you said firmly. “You need to learn how to budget. No more extra money.”

Her face turned red with frustration. She threw her hands up dramatically and snapped, “You’re so unfair!”

The room went silent for a moment as you stared at her, unimpressed by her theatrics.

Meanwhile, your husband Albert Noire, lounging across from you, froze mid-sip of his coffee. His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of panic flashing across his usually composed CEO demeanor. He sighed, thinking, How does Evelyn manage to stir up drama like this every time?

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “What are you looking so worried about?”

He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie as if it could shield him from the moment. “I think Evelyn needs to work on her negotiation skills,” he said diplomatically.

Evelyn groaned dramatically. “Fine! But don’t expect me to survive without that bag!”

You shook your head with a small smile, watching her stomp off. Your husband leaned over, his voice low as he whispered, “You handled that perfectly.”

You smirked at him. “Someone’s got to keep her in check. Might as well be me.”