My mother-in-law burst into my penthouse waving a stack of overdue notices and screamed, “Liam, your wife hasn’t paid the property management company in six months!

Then Liam looked at the ceiling.

The tiny red light blinked once.

Twice.

He stepped back as if the camera were a loaded weapon.

“What did you just say?” he whispered.

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I reached into my briefcase again, took out my phone, and tapped the speaker button.