My father did not save me because he foresaw the cliff.

He saved me because he was, to his bones, the kind of man who keeps the record — and because he raised a daughter who was, to her bones, the kind of woman who refuses to sign what she has not read, and who does not stop breathing while her child still needs her.

His caution was in that dashboard.

But it was also in me.

He gave me both, and both of them, in the end, are why I am alive.

Chapter 9 — Let Him Believe He Won