Chapter 2: What We Did to It
Nobody moved.
My father — the man who once cross-examined a federal judge without blinking — was crying at my birthday table.
Amy's husband set down his glass.
Even he had nothing to say.
I looked into the box.
My hands started shaking before I even understood what I was seeing.
It was a book.
Handmade.
Leather cover, hand-stitched spine.
And inside — page after page of drawings.
Detailed architectural drawings.
Buildings.
Floor plans.
Elevations.
All dated, all labeled, all in Leo's handwriting.
And on the inside cover, a single folded letter.
My father reached over and picked it up before I could stop him.
He read it in silence.
When he finally looked up, his face was something I had never seen before.
"Leo," he said quietly.
"How long have you known?"
Leo didn't answer right away.
He just looked at my father with steady eyes.
"Long enough," he said.
Amy grabbed her husband's arm.
"What is he talking about?"
My father folded the letter carefully and placed it back in the box.
"He's talking about your grandfather's firm," he said.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
May you like
"And what we did to it."
The room went completely still.
