“You’ll be back on your knees by February!” Cole shouted into the private hallway.

He slammed the penthouse door behind us with a crack that rattled the glass light fixtures along the wall as my father and I stepped into the elevator.

The elevator doors closed behind us on the fifth floor of the State Banking Commission building on Worth Street.

Daniel took a navy blue folder from his leather briefcase and handed three signed originals across the granite counter to the senior compliance officer, a woman named Mrs.

Vance.