Halvern, Apex Records headquarters. Four days later.
Lorenzo Perez had already emptied half a bottle of wine when his son arrived at the exact time of the appointment. He heard him knock twice, sharply, on the door, didn't answer, and kept leafing through the papers spread across his desk until Hector let himself in and stopped in front of him, all in gray, tie straight, chin raised.
"Father."
"Close the door."
Hector shut it behind him, then approached the desk.
"Sit down."
"I prefer to stay standing."
"I told you to sit."
Hector finally took the armchair, and Lorenzo used the moment to toss a cardboard folder at him. It slid across the wood and stopped against his sleeve.
"Open it."
Hector opened it. Registry photos, debt contracts signed in his hand, a list of names with dates beside them.
