More than twice what he charged me for my bedroom.

I left the office with a strange feeling in my stomach.

Dad had been paying hundreds of dollars every month to store equipment he wouldn’t even let me see.

Meanwhile, I was still wearing shoes I’d repaired with glue.

That evening, I confronted him.

“Why do you need a warehouse that costs six hundred and forty dollars a month?”

Dad looked up sharply.

“Where did you hear that?”