After 12 years in Black Ops, I came back to the $6.8M oceanfront mansion I bought for my mom, and froze when I saw her in a server uniform, carrying a tray of cocktails at a pool party. She looked at me like an AC repairman and asked my price. My brother sat smoking a cigar like the owner, not even glancing at her. I didn’t make a scene. I quietly called my old team and said just one sentence.
The basement door clicked open like a bad memory finally giving way. A thin wedge of light slid across…