Thirty-Nine Million Dollars and a Brown Folder on the Kitchen Table
Ranata stood up and smoothed her silk blouse.
“Come into the office,” she said.
“I want to show you something.”
I followed her down the wide hallway.
Her house smelled like expensive citrus candles, the kind that cost fifty dollars apiece.
She sat down at a large oak desk and tapped her wireless mouse.
The big monitor woke up.
“Look at this,” she said.
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