laughed.

“Of course there is.”

He reached into his briefcase and removed a small black flash drive.

“Your grandfather left this for you.”

“What is it?”

“A recording.”

“Of what?”

Richard’s expression turned serious.

“Your father.”

My heart stopped.

“When was it recorded?”

“Two months ago.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Your grandfather knew he was dying.”

I stared at the flash drive.

“What did he record?”

Richard didn’t answer.

Instead, he handed me his phone.

A video was already open.

I pressed play.

The screen showed a conference room.

My father sat at a long table.

Across from him was an older man I immediately recognized.

James Brooks.

My grandfather.

Alive.

Healthy.

Angry.

My father leaned forward.

“You’re making a mistake.”

My grandfather shook his head.

“No, Daniel. The mistake was trusting you.”

“You can’t leave everything to that boy.”

“He is my grandson.”

“He doesn’t know anything about business.”

“He doesn’t