“Do it,” I told him. “Right away.”
Part 3: The Accounts Freeze
The next afternoon I was in my penthouse office reviewing quarterly reports when my personal phone began vibrating against the glass desktop. My mother’s name lit the screen once, then again, then again until the calls became almost mechanical in their persistence. I let the first twenty go unanswered. On the twenty-first, I picked up.
She was already screaming.
