police.”
“That would only make James’s situation worse,” I said. “I know that.”
I grabbed my bag.
“I’ll be back in two hours.”
I left before they could stop me.
A few blocks away, behind a restaurant and a condo tower, there was a cigar bar called The Havana. I had called ahead.
Aunt Morgan was already waiting in a corner booth.
She was my mother’s older sister, but the resemblance ended there. Elegant, silver-haired, and perfectly composed, she had spent decades as a litigator and still carried herself like someone who never entered a room without already having a strategy.
“You look awful,” she said pleasantly.
“Thank you,” I replied, sliding into the seat.
“Show me the letter.”
I handed over the demand notice.
She read it once, then gave a short, dry laugh.
“Apex Global Holdings,” she said. “Still pretending to be respectable. That’s Barry Seagull. Predatory lender. Fort Lauderdale. He terrifies young idiots into paying double.”
“Can we delay him?”
