He had trained my father’s security staff, taught me how to read a warehouse ledger, and attended both my parents’ funerals.

I had once believed he was the closest thing to an uncle I’d ever have.

“Tiffany’s upset,” he said.

“She’s afraid you’ll be taken advantage of.”

“By three infants?”

“By their mother.

You don’t know what she’d demand if she got a chance.”

I slid a copy of the returned letter toward him.