THORNE

“What is going on here?”

I turned and laid on my back. I was hearing my Mom inside my room—here on the Isle de Wright, the very island where I used to live while I managed our banks throughout Europe.

But wait, why was Mom here? When did she fly here to England?

I checked, and I was right. She was there, standing intimidatingly near my bed.

“It’s a whole mess!”

I wasn’t sure if she was talking about my messy room or my messy life.

“Let’s talk later, Mom. I’m still sleepy.” I groaned and rolled, pressing my face on my pillow.

“Of course,” She angrily growled. “I...