up.
He walked onto the stage, picked up the microphone, and looked directly at Tracy.
“I want to thank you for taking my dad off our hands,” he said, his voice echoing through the ballroom. “As of today, he’s your problem.”
Gasps filled the room, followed by nervous laughter.
“Tommy!” Joe shouted.
My son kept holding the microphone.
Then he reached into his blazer and pulled out a black USB drive.
“And my mom isn’t leaving with nothing,” Tommy continued. “Because I copied everything from Dad’s secret phone.”
For the