After My Father’s

he laughed softly. “You always needed Daddy to fight for you.”

That one hurt.

Because he knew exactly where to press.

I sat in the dark behind Dad’s desk and looked at the production floor below.

“My father is dead,” I said. “And you’re still losing.”

His breath changed.

“You cold little—”

I hung up.

My hands shook afterward.

I let them.

Courage, I was learning,continue reading …