In the world of high-net-worth individuals, a family office is as high as you get. Rockefeller. Rothschild. Gates and Soros. Once hired, the family office supervises all the advisors, lawyers, and bankers who manage the family’s money. Paid professionals to maximize every last penny. You don’t speak to the family anymore – you speak to the office. So if the head of the clan is calling me directly… I’m about to get some teeth pulled.

“Has the transfer not posted yet, Mr. Drew?”

“You’re damn right it hasn’t posted yet, smartass! Now what the hell you gonna do to make that right? Your boss promised me it’d be here by two o’clock! Two o’clock!” he screams.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Lapidus is-”

“I don’t give a raccoon’s ass where he is – the guy at Forbes gave me a deadline of today; I gave your boss that deadline, and now I’m giving you that deadline! What the hell else we need to discuss!?”

My mouth goes dry. Every year, the Forbes 400 lists the wealthiest 400 individuals in the United States. Last year, Tanner Drew was number 403. He wasn’t pleased. So this year, he’s determined to bump himself up a notch. Or three. Too bad for me, the only thing standing in his way is a forty-million-dollar transfer to his personal account that we apparently still haven’t released.

“Hold on one second, sir, I…”

“Don’t you dare put me on h-”

I push the hold button and pray for rain. A quick extension later, I’m waiting to hear the voice of Judy Sklar, Lapidus’s secretary. All I get is voicemail. With the boss at a partners retreat for the rest of the day, she’s got no reason to stick around. I hang up and start again. This time, I go straight to DEFCON One. Henry Lapidus’s cell phone. On the first ring, no one answers. Same on the second. By the third, all I can do is stare at the blinking red light on my phone. Tanner Drew is still waiting.

I click back to him and grab my own cell phone.