Tate’s is destroyed now.

We’re going to lose the house.” He was not asking for money.

He was stating a fact he could no longer hide from.

I looked around the home I had grown up in — the crown molding I had paid to repair, the roof I had replaced.

“You lost this house the moment you decided my sacrifices were an entitlement, Dad,” I said softly.

“You built your security on money you treated with contempt.