I picked up my handbag.
“Then I think this conversation is over.”
***
That evening, I went through Henry’s old files.
He had been meticulous.
Every business agreement.
Every investment.
Every partnership amendment.
Everything was stored in labeled folders.
I sat in his study, surrounded by the smell of old paper and furniture polish.
His photograph stood on the desk.
He was smiling.
Holding a fishing rod.
I touched the frame.
“Henry, what did we miss?”
Then I found something.
A letter dated seventeen years earlier.
Only eight months before his death.
It was addressed to Malcolm.
The first paragraph was ordinary.
It concerned a proposed expansion.
But halfway through, Henry’s tone changed.
*Malcolm, I have become concerned about the way you have presented company matters to Trevor.*
My heartbeat quickened.
I continued reading.
*Our son must learn the difference between inheritance and entitlement.*
*Gloria has built this company alongside me. She is not holding anyone’s property hostage.*
