THE BUSINESS CARD
“Put the gun down,” Alexander said. “Walk out. I won’t call the police. I won’t send anyone after you.”
Gabriel sneered through tears. “You’re lying. Rich men always lie.”
Alexander nodded once.
“I’m tired of lying.”
He reached into his jacket pocket. Gabriel jerked the gun up again, panic flashing.
“Slowly,” Alexander said, keeping his movements deliberate.
He pulled out a business card and a pen. Wrote a number on the back. Placed it on the carpet and slid it toward Gabriel.
“That’s my personal line. No assistants. No lawyers.”
Gabriel stared.
Alexander continued:
“You put the gun down. You leave. Call me tomorrow. We set up a trust for your mother. We pay for you to finish college. We restore the pension fund for your father’s workers.”
Gabriel’s face collapsed.
“Why would you do that?”
Alexander glanced at Marina and the boys, then back at him.
“Because tonight I walked into an empty house and realized if I died, no one would mourn me. I built an empire of nothing.” He exhaled. “Let me try to build something real.”
Gabriel stared at the card… then at the gun in his hand, as if it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds.
With a sob that tore through him, he let it fall.
The pistol hit the carpet with a dull thud.
Gabriel sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands.
