Chapter 7 - My Father's Last Demand
Dad wasn't there to apologize.
He was there to sue me.
Or threaten to.
His attorney explained that Richard believed he possessed an ownership interest in my company because of the $8,000 he had given me during its first year.
I almost admired the desperation.
I invited them into my study.
My attorney joined by video call.
Documents were exchanged.
Twenty minutes later, the matter was essentially over.
Dad's $8,000 had been documented as a loan.
Repaid.
With interest.
More than a decade earlier.
There was no equity.
No ownership.
Nothing.
His attorney closed his folder.
Dad remained seated.
“You planned this.”
“What?”
“You planned to abandon us.”
I stared at him.
“When I was twenty-three?”
“You always thought you were better than me.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“I spent half my adult life trying to earn your approval.”
That silenced him.
“And every time I succeeded, you raised the price.”
Dad's expression changed slightly.
“You gave me eight thousand dollars. I spent ten years trying to repay something that had already been repaid.”
He looked toward the photographs on my desk.
Clara.
Sophie.
Our wedding.
“I was proud of you,” he said.
“Then why didn't you ever say it?”
He had no answer.
His attorney quietly excused himself.
Dad remained.
Eventually he whispered, “I don't have anything.”
“You have yourself.”
He laughed bitterly.
“That's easy for a rich man to say.”
“No. It's what everyone else had to learn after I stopped paying.”
Dad looked at me.
“Your mother left.”
“Yes.”
“Vanessa barely speaks to me.”
“Yes.”
“You took them.”
“No.”
I stood.
“Your choices did.”
He left.
I assumed that would be our final conversation.
May you like
I was wrong.
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