Chapter 8
Harold looked at the screen for three full rings.
Anna watched him the way a person watches someone standing at the edge of something.
He answered.
"Victor."
"Dad." Victor's voice was warm.
It had always been warm — that was the thing Harold was only now understanding, the way warmth can be a tool.
"I heard you stopped by the pawn shop this morning.
One of the staff mentioned it.
Everything okay?"
"Where are you right now?"
A brief pause.
"At the office.
Why?"
"I'm at the Maple Court Motel," Harold said.
"Room twelve."
Silence.
It lasted exactly long enough to confirm everything.
"I'm not sure what you're—"
"Derek is your man," Harold said.
"He was here twenty minutes ago.
He left when I asked him to leave.
I have the eviction notice, Victor.
Your signature is on it."
Another pause.
When Victor spoke again, the warmth had cooled by several degrees.
"That's a property matter.
The unit is tied to one of the subsidiaries.
There's a tenant issue — it's routine."
"The tenant is your sister."
Nothing.
Harold waited.
"I didn't realize you knew about her situation," Victor said finally.
His voice had changed again — lower, more careful.
Recalibrating.
"I've been trying to handle it quietly, out of respect for you.
She's been — she's had difficulties, Dad.
I didn't want to worry you."
"You've been evicting her."
"I've been managing a legal situation that she created.
She's behind on a unit that belongs to the company.
I can't make exceptions.
You taught me that."
"I taught you a great many things," Harold said.
"I'm learning which ones you actually absorbed."
"Dad—"
"I have photographs, Victor."
The line went very quiet.
"I don't know what she's shown you, but I want you to consider who you're listening to.
She left.
She chose to walk away from this family twenty years ago for her own reasons, and she's been — she's been unstable.
May you like
She's not well.
Whatever she's told you—"
