“How could you not tell me about the Miami debt?” he asked her.

“I signed the personal guarantees, Mother.”

“If they freeze my accounts, I have nothing.”

“I am the one who signed the papers.”

I didn’t hear Patricia’s reply.

The heavy fire door clicked shut behind us, cutting off the sound of their voices.

We walked down the long, concrete service hallway.

The fluorescent lights overhead flickered rhythmically.

Elena pushed the button for the service elevator.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking at me sideways.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“I actually feel lighter than I have in years.”

“It’s not over yet,” Elena warned.

“The grand jury indictments will take a few weeks.”

“But the public ruin starts tomorrow morning when the markets open.”

“They won’t survive the press release.”

The elevator arrived with a heavy clunk.

The metal doors slid open, revealing the industrial gray interior.

We stepped inside, and Elena pressed the button for the basement garage.

As the elevator began its slow descent, Harrison’s words echoed in my mind.

*I am the one who signed the papers.*

I knew Harrison.