After my husband threw me out of the house after our divorce, I took the old bank card my father had left behind and used it at a branch in the U.S., sending the whole bank lobby into a stir as the staff hurriedly called the manager over, and the words “Look at the name on this account!” revealed a family secret I had never known.

Zelica wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She looked at Mr. Zuberi.

“I need three things,” she said.

“What things, ma’am?”

“First, cash. I don’t have a dime.”

“Of course. Kofi, prepare a cash withdrawal from the operating account,” Mr. Zuberi said.

“Second,” Zelica continued, “I need a place to stay temporarily. A secure hotel far from the Sovereign apartments.”

“That can be arranged. We have corporate rates with secure hotels.”

“Third, and this is the most important,” Zelica leaned forward, “I need all the financial data of Okafor Legacy Holdings LLC, and I need a recommendation for the best business restructuring consultant. Not from around here. I want someone from the Midtown financial district—someone who doesn’t know Quacy.”

Mr. Zuberi was stunned for a moment, impressed by the composure of the woman who thirty minutes ago had looked like a homeless person.