“I don’t care about their reasons, Liz,” Daniel screamed into the phone. “I care about staying alive.”

“Please,” he whimpered. “Just sign the paper.”

“I can’t do that, Daniel,” I said.

“You’re going to let them kill me?” he asked.

“I am going to let the law handle this,” I said.

The line went dead before I could say anything else.

I sat in the quiet office, the dial tone buzzing in my ear.

I placed the receiver back in its cradle.

My hands were shaking, but not from fear.

It was the cold, hollow realization that my family had never been a family at all.

We were just transactions.

We were assets and liabilities on Michael’s ledger.

I stood up and walked to the window, looking down at the ambulance bay.

A red light was flashing on the console of my desk phone.

It was a text message on my personal line.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone.

The message was from an unknown number, but the tone was unmistakable.

It was an image.

The photo showed the exterior of my apartment building.