Patterson scanned the first page.
His jaw tightened.
“You claimed these sites were fully controlled.”
Samuel stepped forward.
“They will be.
The agreements are nearly done.”
“Nearly done is not done.”
“The investment would allow us to close them.”
“You told me the land would secure my capital.”
“It would, once acquired.”
Patterson looked up.
“With my money.”
Samuel said nothing.
Cynthia moved beside her father.
“Daddy, Samuel knows what he’s doing.
This company is about to become enormous.
She’s threatened by that because she wants him dependent on her.”
Patterson held up one hand.
“Do not call me Daddy while asking me to ignore a false financial representation.”
Cynthia’s face tightened.
I had seen Patterson at charity dinners and family gatherings.
He was controlled, formal and rarely loud.
That made the disappointment in his voice more severe.
He turned to me.
“Did you know Samuel planned to request ten million dollars from me?”
“I knew he wanted an investment.
I did not know the final amount until Cynthia mentioned it this morning.”
“And you permitted the meeting?”
“I wanted to see whether my son would tell you the truth when it mattered.”
Samuel finally raised his head.
“You were testing me?”
“No.
Life was testing you.
I simply stopped giving you the answers.”
He stared at me as though I had betrayed him.
That expression hurt more than Cynthia’s insult.
I remembered him at eight years old, hiding behind my apron after breaking a neighbor’s window.
I had walked him next door, made him apologize and helped him earn the money for repairs.
He had hated me for one afternoon and thanked me years later.
Somewhere along the way, I had stopped requiring him to repair what he broke.
After his restaurant failed, I erased consequences with checks.
When he missed targets at Sterling Peak, I quietly moved money between accounts.
When Cynthia insulted me, I accepted Samuel’s excuses because confronting him risked losing whatever closeness remained.
My generosity had not made him stronger.
It had made dishonesty comfortable.
Samuel pointed at the folder.
“You could have spoken to me privately.”
“I tried.
Last month, I asked why company figures were being shown to outside parties without my approval.
You told me not to interfere.”
“I was under pressure.”
“Two weeks ago, I asked whether Patterson had received the ownership documents.
You said the legal details would confuse him.”
Samuel’s lips pressed together.
“Tonight,” I continued, “your wife spat in my face.
You comforted her.”
