He stared at it, eyes wide.
“Pick it up,” I said.
He did.
We all heard the voice on the other end—sharp, frantic, professional panic.
“Arthur! The accounts are frozen. River City just called the loans. All of them. They’re demanding repayment within 24 hours or they seize assets.”
Arthur’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“Arthur, they’re locking the gates tomorrow morning,” the voice continued. “We’re finished.”
The phone slipped from his hand and cracked against the plate.
Arthur looked at me like I’d turned the room upside down.
“Why?” he rasped. “You have… more than enough. Why destroy me over dinner?”
I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to.
“Because you think money makes cruelty acceptable,” I said. “You needed to learn there’s always a bigger fish.”
I reached into my wine glass and pulled out the soggy scrap of his $5,000 check.
Then I dropped it into his bowl of soup.
“Bon appétit, Arthur.”
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