For one second, Trevor looked ashamed.
Then he said something that shattered whatever tenderness remained.
"If you'd given me the company when I asked, none of this would have happened."
I stared at him.
And finally understood.
Malcolm might have manipulated Trevor.
Kristen might have encouraged him.
But my son was still choosing to blame me for what he'd done.
I picked up my handbag.
"Then I think this conversation is over."
***
That evening, I went through Henry's old files.
He had been meticulous.
Every business agreement.
Every investment.
Every partnership amendment.
Everything was stored in labeled folders.
I sat in his study, surrounded by the smell of old paper and furniture polish.
His photograph stood on the desk.
He was smiling.
Holding a fishing rod.
I touched the frame.
"Henry, what did we miss?"
Then I found something.
A letter dated seventeen years earlier.
Only eight months before his death.
