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.

“Z,” he said, trying a softer tone—the tone he used to cajole her. “I don’t know what happened to you, but this is big business. Maybe… maybe we can collaborate. I mean, you know me. I’m the best builder in Atlanta.”

Zelica smiled slightly.

“Oh, I know you very well, Quacy.”

Then she stood up.

“I don’t have more time, but I will give you a chance. My team”—she glanced at Seek—“will do due diligence. A complete life-diligence of your company. We need to see your accounting, your list of assets, and your list of debts. We will not invest a single dollar in a company that is not transparent.”

Quacy hesitated. Opening his books would be a disaster. His company wasn’t as healthy as he bragged.

“Why does it have to be so complicated?” he asked. “It’s me, Z. Your ex-husband.”