After My Father’s

closer to pity.

“Miles,” I said, “you tried everything you knew how to do.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You used fear. Shame. Reputation. Money. My father’s mistakes. My mother’s trust. A dead woman’s name. My grief.”

I moved one step closer.

“And you still couldn’t make yourself worthy of the chair.”

His face went white.

That was the wound.

Not losing money.

Not losing continue reading …