“Call the union leader,” Arthur commanded. “Tell him we need the trucks moving by noon.”

“I called him,” Gregory said.

“And?”

“He said he only negotiates with Clara. He said he doesn’t trust you, boss.”

“He said what?”

“He said you’re too hot-headed,” Gregory whispered. “He said Clara was the only one who kept her word.”

I heard the sharp sound of glass shattering.

Arthur had likely thrown his crystal tumbler against the brick fireplace.

“Find her,” Arthur growled. “I don’t care what it takes. Go to her apartment.”

“I sent two guys there an hour ago,” Gregory said. “The place is empty. She cleared out everything.”

“She didn’t leave her lease?”

“She paid cash. The landlord doesn’t even have her real name.”

“She planned this,” Arthur said. His voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper. “She’s been planning this for months.”

Actually, I had planned it in three days.

When you spend five years managing a man’s life, you learn how to dismantle it in an afternoon.

My personal phone buzzed again on the wooden table.

The screen lit up with another message from the same blocked number.