“Are you sure the flowers weren't from Felix?"
Christina stared at the white lilies on her dorm desk, another bouquet with no card. The receptionist had said, “From Mr. R."
“Felix wouldn't be cryptic," she muttered, tossing the ribbon aside. “He'd bring them himself—with tacos."
Her roommate peeked in. “Another delivery? That's three this week."
“Yeah," Christina said, uneasily. “It's... complicated."
---
Complicated became impossible two weeks later.
Her father called first—panicked.
“We've lost the factory," he said. “Hostile takeover. I don't know how—they moved faster than our board could react."
Christina froze. “What do you mean, lost?"
“I mean everything is gone. Frozen accounts. Lawsuits pending. We have two weeks before the house is taken."
Then her mother called.
“You
