“A corporation,” he roared, “is not a birthright that falls to you because you happened to be born a man!

It is built, and earned, and run — and this one was built and earned and run by her!” And then the old man’s face changed, and his hand went to his chest, and he gasped, and reached for the table.

He had suffered a heart attack.

A mild one, thank God; the ambulance came quickly, and he survived it.

But something in that room, I think, broke in him for good that day — the last of the long, comfortable denial he had held about the son he had made excuses for, for a lifetime.

Chapter 17 — You Knew