The phone vibrated against the wood, inching to the left until the call rolled over to voicemail.

A minute later, the screen lit up again with the name Douglas Kingsley.

I watched his name flash in bright white letters on the dark screen.

He was frantically trying to figure out why his bank had frozen his assets, and he wanted his wealthy new relative to provide an emergency bridge loan.

He still believed I was a retired man with modest savings who could be pushed into signing away property equity.

The phone stopped ringing.