Gerald stared at the business card I’d placed on the table. Hartley Capital Partners, Managing Director. Beneath it was my name—Frank—and suddenly the man who had spent the afternoon questioning whether my son Daniel was financially worthy of Olivia looked terrified. “You’re the lead investor in the Northgate fund,” he whispered. His lender had recently informed him that an anonymous group had purchased his loan. Now he understood who stood behind it.

Preston jumped from his chair. “Dad, you said that was handled.” Daniel stared at me in disbelief, while Olivia’s eyes filled with tears. Margaret insisted they’d only been worried about their daughter. “Then you should have asked about Daniel’s character instead of my boots,” I replied. I opened one email on my phone. “Thursday at nine, your lender’s board votes on whether to call your loan—and my signature decides it.” Gerald reached across the table toward me. “Please,” he whispered. “Let me explain what really happened in Hamilton.”

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