“You’d consider—”
“On one condition.”
I looked at him steadily, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make the point land.
“You treat my son, and every single person you meet, with the respect they deserve. Regardless of how they dress, or where they live, or what they drive.”
Richard’s face moved from pale to a deep, embarrassed red. “Mr. Warren, I — we didn’t mean to. I apologize. Sincerely.”
Patricia found her voice at last. “Thomas, I am so sorry. We made terrible, terrible assumptions. Please forgive us.”
Christopher was still staring down at his phone, where — I could only assume — my Wikipedia page had finished loading. “You donated fifty million to MIT last year. Thirty million to Boston Children’s Hospital. There’s an entire wing named after your wife.”
“Sarah wanted her legacy to help sick children,” I said quietly, feeling the familiar ache settle behind my ribs. “The money was always meant for something bigger than either of us.”
