“Daniel, please,” she begged through her tears. “We can fix this. We can put the money back.”

“With what?” my father asked. “You don’t have any money. You spent it all.”

He tapped a name on his contact list.

“I’m calling Ethan back,” he said.

Martin looked up, panic finally breaking through his arrogant expression.

“Don’t do this, Daniel,” Martin said, his voice cracking. “If you freeze those accounts, my division will collapse by Monday.”

“Then it collapses,” my father said.

“The sub-contractors won’t get paid,” Martin said. “The suppliers will pull their materials.”

“Then I will pay them directly from the corporate treasury,” my father said. “But your name will not be on the checks.”

He held the phone to his ear.

I watched his face, amazed by how calm he was.

For years, I had watched him take their insults and their mockery without a word.

Now, he was standing in their living room, dismantling their entire lives with a few taps on a screen.

“Ethan,” my father said into the phone.

“Yes, Mr. Whitaker,” Ethan’s voice replied.