I could see the whole scene before it happened — the warm, slightly condescending chuckle, the hand on my arm, the smooth explanation about an investment club, a surprise, a misunderstanding by an overtired wife.

He would turn it around until I was the one apologizing.

And then, that night or the next morning, the box would quietly vanish, and so would whatever was inside it, and I would never be able to prove that any of it had ever existed.

Worse, he would turn my brother against me.

He would get to Jim first, frighten him, remind him of whatever leverage already had him so afraid, and I would lose the one person in this whole ugly business I most needed to protect.

So I did not scream, and I did not march.