Stress nearly killed him.

Is this what you want?

To tear apart everything he built?”

I remembered my father dying after a sudden stroke, and the way Preston had stood at the funeral greeting investors as if it were a networking reception.

“What I want,” I said, “is an independent accounting of where the money went.”

He laughed quietly.

“You really think you can run the business?

You haven’t been at the office regularly for years.”