PART 1 — UNDER THE CHAIR

“If you ever say those things about your father again, you’re going to be sent somewhere you won’t see us.”

I heard Victoria’s voice before I entered the dining room.

I stopped in the hallway.

Christmas music played softly from hidden speakers.

Something smelled like rosemary and roasted beef.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, lights wrapped around the oak trees in my brother’s backyard.

Everything looked expensive enough to appear calm.

Nothing sounded calm.

I had flown from Chicago to Austin that afternoon to spend Christmas with my older brother, Michael, his wife Victoria, and my five-year-old niece Chloe.

I had not seen Chloe in almost eight months.

Michael and I had never been especially close as adults.

After our father died, the distance between us widened.

He built a cybersecurity company that grew much faster than anyone expected.

Government contractors.

Banks.

Hospital networks.

The kind of clients whose names never appeared on his public website.

I became an investigative journalist.