Tad Williamson tapped the brakes, rolled through the stop sign, and made the turn onto Elm. He pressed the red Thunderbird’s accelerator, heard the engine produce a restrained, throaty roar, and felt the pleasant lurch as the car hustled down the quiet suburban street. His driver’s license stated he’d just turned twenty-two, but in reality, Tad lived in that indeterminate state between man and boy. He’d been raised in a culture of affluence, influence, and old money that traced its way back to textiles, tobacco, and back-room politics. Even as a young boy, Tad figured out his family played by a different set of rules.
Tad Williamson tapped the brakes, hisThe only son of a prominent state senator, Tad’s father’s ambition had worked for and against Tad. Ungifted in the classroom and withou
