Chapter 12 - MY FATHER FINALLY HAD TO ASK INSTEAD OF TAKE
Charles requested a private meeting.
I refused.
We met through lawyers.
He looked older.
Courtney was gone.
Nathan was gone.
His purchase option under Lucas’s trust was likely finished.
His influence at the company had been reduced by independent governance changes.
But he still owned shares.
Still had money.
Still had a voice.
This was not a revenge fantasy where one bad act erased an entire life overnight.
He looked at me.
“Do you hate me?”
“No.”
That bothered him.
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Because then at least I’d still matter enough.”
That was the closest Charles came to understanding himself.
I asked:
“Why did you drag me outside?”
His face hardened.
“You wouldn't listen.”
“To what?”
“You were pregnant, grieving, irrational—”
I raised one hand.
“Stop.”
He did.
“You still think the problem was that I wouldn’t obey quickly enough.”
Charles looked away.
“I thought the house was Lucas’s.”
“You didn’t check.”
“I had paperwork.”
“Forged paperwork.”
“I didn’t make the signature.”
“Did you know I hadn’t signed it?”
Silence.
That was enough.
Then:
“I wanted the company back.”
“From whom?”
“Lucas.”
“Lucas is dead.”
His eyes filled.
“I know.”
“So you took it from me.”
He had no answer.
Finally he whispered:
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
For thirty-two years, Charles had treated not knowing as a temporary inconvenience solved by taking authority.
This time I said:
“You could have asked.”
May you like
He looked at me as though the concept were foreign.
That was tragedy enough.
