The family phone calls started at dawn, interrupting what little sleep I’d managed to get after the banking crisis. But these weren’t calls for me—they were emergency summons for Nick and Roni, both of whom looked increasingly pale as they took turns pacing the East Wing common room with phones pressed to their ears.
“No, Father, I understand your concerns, but—” Nick’s voice was strained, carrying the kind of careful control that suggested he was being lectured by someone who held absolute power over his future.
Across the room, Roni was having her own crisis conversation, her usually perfect composure cracking under whatever pressure her mother was applying from the other end of the line.
“Mother, please listen to reason. The engagement is purely strategic—” Roni’s voice broke slightl
