He paused deliberately. “Ask your father.”

The entire diner went silent. Inside me, something hardened.

“My father died six years ago,” I said. “In a vehicle accident.”

“That’s right.” His smile widened. “Accidents happen. Especially to people who don’t know when to leave things alone.”

I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t clench my fists, though every instinct urged me to. Instead I studied him the way I had studied hostile men across negotiation tables overseas — the kind who confused fear with respect, who mistook temporary power for permanence.

“No,” I said quietly.