Robert woke at six AM sharp. He didn't need an alarm. It was more the function of anticipation than the clock.He got under the hot spray of the shower. Today was important. Now Loretta would see how it was to be the recipient side.He wore a charcoal suit, Italian shoes that were gleaming with a mirror finish. The mirror in which he saw his own image reflected was not like the pizza delivery boy two days ago.Robert checked his phone. No messages from Loretta. Good. That meant she was coming.He had breakfast brought up to his room. Eggs benedict, fresh orange juice, and coffee. His five years of leftover pizza made him value actual food.The eggs were perfect. Hollandaise sauce full and fat. Slowly Robert ate his meal, and did it to the last morsel. No rushing. No Sandra screaming at him to hurry up.At seven-thirty Robert took the Bugatti to Zenco. His engine was purring smoothly and powerfully. People stared as he passed. Some pointed. Others took pictures.He left his car in the

An hour later Robert was driving in no direction. He was racing his thoughts in a tornado.Did he still love Roxanne? Yes. Could he forgive her? Maybe. Should he? It was the question that afflicted him.His phone rang. Dave."Hey man, I just got to my bank. Writing out my resignation today.” Dave sounded excited."Good." Forcing a note of enthusiasm into his voice, Robert said."You okay? You sound off." Dave enquired, with anxious intonation.“Just came from Roxanne's place.” Robert admitted."How'd it go?" Dave asked."She apologized. Her mother too." Robert said."And?" Dave pressed.“And I do not think I believe them.” Robert said honestly. “I do not know whether they mean it or they are merely after my money.”Dave was quiet for a moment. "You want to grab lunch? Talk about it?""Yeah. That would be good." Robert said. "I need to clear my head."They had a meeting in a small diner in town. Nothing fancy. Just good food and privacy. The type of a place, in which nobody was concern

Robert woke before his alarm. Five-thirty AM sharp. He was thinking of the board meeting that he was about to attend.He showered quickly. Hot water served the purpose of fully waking him. He dressed with particularity in his best navy suit. Custom tailored. Perfect fit.The shoes of Italians shone on the lights in the bath. Robert looked at everything in the mirror. Tie straight. Cufflinks polished. Hair combed back neatly.He looked like a president. Like a man in control.And his stomach turned within him. He would face challenges today by the board. They always did. Test his limits. Undermine his authority.After breakfast, Robert was eating breakfast in his room. Toast, black coffee, scrambled eggs. Simple lunch to go the rest of the day.He came into Zenco at eight-thirty in the Bugatti. Morning traffic crawled. Cars honked impatiently. Human beings were like ants.At eight forty-five Robert came. Early, but not too early. He wanted to look prepared. Not desperate.The reception

Robert had no sleep that night. He remained in his office, going through evidence against Uncle Phillip time and again.The documents were damning. Transfers worth millions. Signatures matching. Emails discussing schemes. Decades of organized conspiracy between Phillip and Carlton.Everyone was suffering as they bled Zenco dry.The phone of Robert boomed out at midnight. Roxanne calling.He ignored it once. Twice. Three times.Finally, he answered. "What do you want?""Where are you?" Thickening with tears, Roxanne asked. "I've been calling for hours.""I'm working." Robert said flatly."At midnight?" Incredulously Roxanne questioned."Yes." Robert said. "Some of us have jobs."Roxanne was quiet. "That was cruel, Robert.""Was it?" Robert asked. “Not as cruel as making me wear a maid's outfit. Not as cruel as letting your mother slap me.”"I said I was sorry." Roxanne whispered."Sorry doesn't fix five years." Robert said harshly. “It is not that the humiliation can be forgotten by sa

Robert got up with the ringing of his phone. Six AM. Unknown number flashing."Hello?" He answered groggily.“It is Detective Morrison, Mr. Jackson. I require you to make an immediate appearance at the station.” A man's voice said firmly.Robert sat up quickly. Fully alert. "Why? What's wrong?"Something has happened to your uncle, Phillip Jackson. The detective said gravely.Robert's heart raced. "What kind of incident?"I would prefer to talk about it face-to-face. Detective Morrison said. "Can you be here in an hour?""Yes. I'll be there." Robert said.He dressed quickly without showering. No breakfast. Just clothes and car keys.Robert made his way to the police station with his head whirling. What happened? Was Phillip arrested? Hurt? Worse?At the lobby, detective Morrison encountered him. Tall man, mid-fifties. Tired eyes. Gray hair.“Thank you for coming, Mr. Jackson.” So he said, and took Robert to a little office."What happened?" Robert asked immediately. "Is my uncle okay?