The first cracks in their pristine façade appeared within days.
My father called first. His voice trembled with disbelief.
“Four clients canceled today,” he said. “Big ones — the new school project, the Petersons’ remodel… They said they needed to ‘wait until things clear up.’ What’s going on? What did you tell them?”
“I told them the truth,” I said flatly.
“This is my reputation!” he barked, the panic breaking through the arrogance.
“Your reputation,” I said, “is your concern. Ethan’s safety is mine.”
And I hung up.
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