The Summer family home was silent, the atmosphere as dead as still water, utterly unrippled.
George Summer hadn't been home for several days, working through the night; on the fifth day at dawn, he sent Tara Summer a message:
Tara, can you save Summer Realty?
Tara Summer stared at this sentence for a full ten minutes before slowly putting down her phone and opened her laptop. As she typed in that long-unused account, her face was as cold as ice.
Three years ago, she had sworn never to touch this account again, but now, at the end of her rope, she had no choice but to give it her all, to counterattack!
After logging in, Tara began to operate swiftly. Though it had been years, she was still perfectly skilled, her eyes on the time at the bottom right of the screen, every second a contest.
Just before the stock market closed at eleven, she barely managed to pull Summer Realty back by two hundred points.
