“Now it’s my turn to enjoy luxury,” my sister-in-law bragged after taking my credit card while I was in the hospital. What she didn’t realize was that security cameras had recorded everything she did.
If you had asked me, even a month before everything unraveled, what the worst thing that could possibly happen to me was, I would have said something dramatic but predictable—losing a client, maybe, or the business collapsing under pressure, or even, on a particularly anxious day, something happening to my family. I wouldn’t have imagined that the moment that would fracture my sense of normality wouldn’t come from the accident that nearly killed me, but from something far more deliberate, far more calculated, and in some ways, far more personal.
