She didn’t apologize — she wasn’t there to apologize, and I hadn’t expected one — but she said that, and I understood it completely.

“You thought the company was the thing that had been taken from you,” I said.

“But it wasn’t.

What was taken from you was a father, and a place, and thirty years, and there’s nothing in that tower that could ever give any of it back.

There never was.

You burned down the wrong building.” She looked at me for a long moment, and something in her face said she knew I was right and had known it for a while and had needed to hear someone else say it.