Chapter 8 - The Price of Pride
Greg lingered for three seconds. He looked at me, gave a slow, resigned nod of professional respect, and whispered, ""Nice play, Daniel,"" before scurrying after his wife.
The heavy wooden door swung shut.
Just Richard and me.
My father sat slumped in his high-backed chair, looking smaller than I had ever seen him. The scotch was untouched. The bread was cold. The blue-ribboned will lay between us like a tombstone for a family that had never really existed.
""Why?"" Richard croaked, staring down at his manicured fingernails. ""Why didn't you tell me you bought the note? Why did you let me sit there and make a fool of myself?""
""Because you needed to show me who you really were when you thought you had all the power,"" I answered honestly. ""On Saturday, you had a choice. You could have treated my son with basic decency. You could have said, 'Hey Mason, Daniel bought this ticket for his boy, so you and I will watch the game on the big screen at the sports bar and let the kids have the seats.' That's what a real grandfather would have done. That's what a man does.""
Richard swallowed hard, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. ""I was trying to help Dylan. Dylan needs connections. Ethan is just... Ethan is quiet. He doesn't care about business.""
""Ethan is twelve years old, Dad!"" I finally let a sliver of anger show, my voice cutting through the quiet room like a scalpel. ""He isn't an asset on a ledger! He isn't a networking tool! He's a child who lost his mother four years ago, who idolized his grandfather, and who spent three months counting down the days until he could sit next to you at a football game!""
Richard flinched, looking away.
""You told me not to waste a seat on him,"" I continued, standing up and buttoning my coat. ""You told me he could sit in the car while you played big shot with another man's kid. Do you have any idea how monstrous that was?""
""I'm sorry,"" Richard whispered. It was the first time in forty-two years I had ever heard those two words come out of his mouth.
""No, you're not,"" I replied coldly. ""You're terrified. You're sorry that your favorite daughter abandoned you the second she realized you were broke. You're sorry that Greg won't protect you. You're sorry that the boy you treated like dirt holds the deed to your front door.""
I pulled a second document from my folder and placed it gently in front of him.
""What's this?"" he asked, his voice shaking.
""That is a loan restructuring agreement,"" I said. ""My company will freeze the interest at zero percent. We will write off two hundred thousand dollars of the unsecured principal immediately. We will set up an affordable monthly payment based solely on your pension income, so you never have to leave your home. You can live there until the day you die.""
Richard looked up, his jaw slack with disbelief. ""You... you're not going to foreclose on me?""
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""I'm not you, Dad,"" I said. ""I don't discard family members when they lose their utility. But this comes with conditions. Very strict conditions.""
Richard nodded frantically, grabbing a pen from his pocket like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver. ""Anything. Daniel, I swear to God, anything you want.""
