The Real Boss Was His Neglected Wife

ley Hog

deathly quiet w

ortress in the Hamptons that serv

elonged to a

, it belon

e silence pressing against my

to remember f

nic that had suffoc

at the head of the table,

on-dollar tribute. If the Dorseys didn

d no li

ad frozen

one who

who clicked op

leveraging my future earnings as the top neu

t their

he very air i

ey used that br

ed against th

from Co

es when you land. Amber has a

en, the backlight gl

ly f

nto the di

w, but I could still see the scene from two ni

een sitting

cha

ght hand

ssively toward the kitchen. "The sauce need

iotomy, Cornelia," I had said, my v

had replied, sipping the vintage wi

had said

t, his eyes glazed with a pa

ister-in-law

s. You're good with kniv

e a glorified ATM w

that writes the checks c

mpty chair at the

son's

ailin

allow

t because he wanted a grandson,

Amber was h

ze she was his

idden behind the oil painti

n the

ic

out the

ood Con

cument, drafted by

e five million do

lable

int

lateral was

The cars.

rs over Jackso

ing hand, weeping, promising

even give me a

edger with a d

g, freezing the last few drops o

just a wi

a cr

bill w