The bank manager puts his cell phone on the table and stands up. He picks up the framed photograph of his family and smiles. In the photo, he and his wife are sitting on a black leather couch in their living room, their two sons on either side of them.
He feels so lucky. He has a good job, a loving family and a twenty two year old lover who is crazy about him despite being fifteen years his junior. Above all, she's willing to do anything for him. What a great life, he thinks.
He sets the photo back to its former position on the table with so much gentleness. As he heads to the door, he wonders what is going on with his little Emma. She's never been so dramatic before. Anyway, he doesn't need her right now so why not just ignore her antics? He thinks she's trying to get his attention but she will have to wait. He won't beg her to tell him what the matter is. After all, she'll still be there when he needs her. He opens the door and makes his away to the restroom. The branch supervisor, Marcus is washing his hands at the sink. "How's it going?"
"Good," the manager replies and enters a stall.
Back In his office, an envelope is brought to him. He tears it open and freezes on seeing a police letter. As he reads through it, his face contorts with fury and his jaw clenches. His fingers ball into fists and he bangs the table, regretting it when he feels a sharp pain. When he finishes reading, he crumbles it and yells. "Bìtch!"
Then he dials a number.