“Stop overreacting, you’re ruining her day!” my mother hissed, grabbing my hair and pushing me over the balcony railing at my sister’s party. I blacked out. When I woke up, the upscale venue was surrounded by federal agents, and my mother was sobbing on her knees while my sister held a document and begged me…

you fixed her messes. If you build it, William, we will come.”

By dawn, William Turner Associates was born in the shadows of our living room. It had no office, no letterhead, but it possessed the entire operational brain of Patricia’s empire.

We sat on the couch as the sun peeked over the Boston skyline, exhausted, terrified, and violently alive.

Then,continue reading …