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“The same.”
“I support you, but what’s going to happen to my companies? You said you were taking over the role of CEO in six months.”
“I want to be in charge, but I think we should hire someone to be the face of the company. I’ll be their boss. I don’t want anyone to recognize me. Plus, this is a side gig to help others. It won’t take over my entire life.”
“If you change your mind, I’m here to support you.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Maybe once you start working, you’ll remember something,” he says as an afterthought.
Would I remember something? I was a kid when I left the country. How can I recall anything about when I joined the workforce? “Doubtful.”
“If you ever find your family…” He doesn’t finish the question.
I don’t think I care about knowing who I am anymore. A long time has passed since I forgot my past. It’s all gone, and I’m satisfied with who I’m becoming. “You are my family, Dad. This is my life. Whatever happened to me before I came to you doesn’t matter.”
“I love you, Son, and I support you with everything. You have signing privileges on all my bank accounts and access to my investment accounts. Please use them to buy all the properties and assets you need.”
“I’ll probably open a few dummy companies first,so no one can trace the company to us.”
“That’s a good idea. I trust you but contact me if you need anything else.”
“Thank you, Dad.”
April 12th
It only takes me three weeks to open four companies and transfer funds to them. I need a foundation to funnel funds to, but before I do it, I fly to New York and contact Derek.
“I didn’t think you would call me again,” he answers his phone immediately.
“So, you miss me.”
He scoffs. “Sure, how are you doing?”
I check my watch. It’s only eleven. If we can meet now, I can be at the office by noon. “Better. When can I see you?”
“Where are you?”
“In Manhattan,” I answer as I’m about to climb down the stairs to the subway.
“Today works. Where do you want to meet?”
“How fast can you meet me in the financial district?”
He whistles. “Right now, it’s impossible. I have back-to-back appointments until seven. Would seven thirty work for you?”
“What? You’re not dropping everything to see me?”
“No. My patients are more important.”
“Well, if you won’t be done until seven, let’s meet at my place in Brooklyn. I’ll send you the address.” I type a text and send it to him right away.
“Wait, you live here?”
I grin. This guy asks too many questions. Maybe he can be in charge of interrogations. “Not necessarily. We’ll talk once we meet. See you then, D.”
I end the call immediately and put away my wireless earbuds. That’s when I hear it, the violin screeching with sadness. When I look up, a person—probably a woman—plays in the corner. She’s wearing a thick coat and a baseball cap, and her eyes are closed.
