“An emergency magistrate signed a temporary suspension order at seven fifteen this morning,” Garrett said.

“Given your documented physical collapses over the past three weeks, the company has to take immediate operational precautions.”

Inside my coat pocket, my right thumb pressed hard against the knuckle of my index finger.

“I built this company thirty years ago with one haul truck and five hundred dollars,” I said.

“You don’t have the legal standing to keep me away from my own desk.”

“It breaks my heart to do this, Dad, but you’re just not fit to make decisions anymore,” Garrett said, looking down at the shiny toes of his leather shoes.