“They’re revoking them,” I said. “They’ll be at our headquarters in less than twenty minutes.”

Before Derek could answer, the heavy glass door of our lobby clicked open.

The sharp, rhythmic tap of designer heels echoed against the concrete floor.

I turned to see my mother walk into the office, her cream-colored wool coat draped perfectly over her shoulders.

My father followed two steps behind her, carrying her leather handbag and looking anxiously at his watch.

“Well,” my mother said, looking around the exposed-brick room with a tight, practiced smile. “This is where the magic happens, I suppose.”

She took off her sunglasses and tucked them into her breast pocket.

The heavy scent of her expensive French perfume instantly clashed with the smell of ozone and copper wire.

“Mom, this really isn’t a good time,” Derek said, stepping between her and the desk.

“I am speaking to your sister, Derek,” she said, waving a hand to dismiss him.

She turned her eyes to me, her expression hardening into a familiar look of pity.