“My dad owns every law firm in this province,” the lawyer’s daughter laughed after ramming her brand-new Tesla into my old Subaru

away before my face could betray what was moving under it. The ballroom opened into a grand foyer framed in dark wood and gold trim, portraits of dead benefactors glaring down like a jury too rich to care. Somewhere behind me, a few voices picked up again, uncertain at first, then steadier once they’d decided the threat had passed. Somebody laughed continue reading …