“You can review the order with counsel.”
“This is my company.”
“No,” I said. “It was your responsibility.”
He stared at me as if I had spoken in a language he had never heard.
Then he laughed once, without humor.
“Your grandfather poisoned you against me.”
“Grandpa recorded your confession before he died.”
Dad’s face went completely still.
Madison whispered, “What confession?”
Mara turned on the recorder.
Grandpa’s voice filled the lobby.
The employees gathering near the staircase fell silent.
Dad did not move until the recording reached the line about borrowed money and concealed losses.
Then he stepped forward and slapped the recorder from Mara’s hand.
It hit the marble floor but continued playing.
“You have no right,” Dad said.
“You signed the papers,” I answered.
“I was under pressure.”
“You signed the papers.”
“I was trying to save everything.”
“You were trying to save your lifestyle.”
His eyes flashed.
“You think you’re better than me because you lost a job and learned to live in a shoebox?”
“No. I think I’m different because I stopped pretending.”
The receiver began directing employees toward the conference room.
Dad caught my wrist.
His fingers were cold and painfully tight.
“You will not destroy this family.”
I looked down at his hand until he released me.
“You did that when you made us part of your balance sheet.”
