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Amy’s Point Of View
Rania opened the door to a hotel car, letting Victor and me escape into the chilly, fresh, alpine air.
My heart lifted instantly because I felt as though we’d been imprisoned for years, moved around by security teams from the hotel to the vault, to a nondescript banker’s office, and back underground to another steel-encased room, all day for four days.
“Today was our final suffering.”
“I’ve had enough Victor.”
“We need freedom, I agree. We also need Florence and my apartment there.”
“I can’t wait to leave the hotel. There are only so many documents any person should be compelled to sign over one lifetime.”
“Said the lawyer to the banker.”
I cocked my head sideways as we headed down a wooded trail, jogging slowly to stretch off. We wore sweats; it was early but bright from a reluctant sun that had risen amid puffy white clouds, suggesting they were an advance party for snow later in the day.
“Do you see yourself as a banker, Victor?”
“Soon you will be, too. Mostly, you’ll make investment choices about land, property, precious metals, and other commodities, deciding to breathe life into one start-up or another.”
“You sell this lifestyle so well, honey.”
I felt Victor could often sound more cynical than intended. This was one of those moments, and I couldn’t blame him. The four days of work were intensive, almost like a marathon at the end of which someone told you to go around again, then again.