At the multimillionaire’s wife’s funeral, a homeless girl pointed at the casket and screamed, “She’s not dead! I saw him lock her in!” The husband sneered, “Get this lunatic out of here.” But when the lock broke and the lid slid open, what lay inside made the entire crowd freeze in terror…

presence of death. It smelled of imported white lilies, heavy foreign colognes, and the trembling hush of a society that feared public scandal far more than it felt any genuine sorrow.

I stood at the epicenter of this hollow performance. To the financial world, I was Jack Halberg, a ruthless hotel magnate who had carved an empire out of stone and ambition.continue reading …