I looked at his polished leather shoes.

They were starting to scuff at the toes.

“I am not going to apologize for choosing a summer camp for my daughter,” I said.

Graham’s face flushed red.

“You don’t understand how the world works, do you?” he sneered.

“You sit up here in this room, playing with your little budget spreadsheets, while I do the real work.”

“I am the one keeping this family afloat.”

“I am the one dealing with corporate sharks.”

He shook his head, looking at me with genuine pity.

“Do you know what I had to deal with today?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “What did you deal with?”

“My leasing agent at Oak Lawn Properties,” he said, throwing his hands up.

“Some low-level bureaucrat named Marcus.”

“He had the nerve to send an email about an outstanding balance.”

“A balance that is a simple accounting delay on our end.”

“I told him we are finalizing our lease extension next week anyway.”

I kept my hands flat on the desk.

Marcus was my senior property manager at Apex Crest.