“Luis, when Sarah arrives, please send her straight up to apartment 14B.”

“Understood, Mr. Collins,” Luis said, his posture rigid.

I looked down at my nieces and nephews.

“Come on, kids,” I said. “Let’s go upstairs.”

They followed me toward the elevators without saying a word.

Hannah and Linda stood by the glass doors, watching us leave.

Linda held the manila envelope like a shield.

“We will talk about this tomorrow,” Linda called out as the elevator doors began to close.

“No,” I said. “We won’t.”

The silver doors slid shut, cutting off her voice.

In the elevator, the only sound was the hum of the air conditioning.

The children stared at the glowing floor numbers.

“Are you mad at us, Uncle Mark?” eight-year-old Lily asked.

I looked down at her and softened my expression.

“No, Lily,” I said. “I am not mad at you.”

“I am just tired.”

The elevator chimed, and the doors opened onto the fourteenth floor.

I led them down the carpeted hallway to my apartment.

Inside, the view of the city lights stretched across the floor-to-ceiling windows.