Meanwhile, you’re stuck, forced to play both conflict-averse diplomat and the world’s most reluctant private investigator, while Jake the “let’s not rock the boat” fiancé sits on the sidelines like Switzerland with anxiety. As tension rises, you hatch a survival plan so old-school, it belongs on medieval tapestries: bring in the family enforcer. Enter Cam, the cousin who combines loyalty, assertiveness, and inconveniently good connections, who manages to trigger one of life’s rare perfect chain reactions.
Carry, carried away on her own entitlement clouds, calls the cops to report her air conditioner thief, except Cam has receipts, the patience of someone with nothing to lose, and the delightful twist that her partner is, by fate, about to lose his cash gig and personal pharmaceuticals in the same twenty-four hour period. The universe, occasionally, has exquisite comedic timing. You get your air conditioner back, the utility money returns from the ether, and two would-be attic monarchs are left to ponder that ultimate cosmic law: play stupid games, win police-escorted prizes.
