Chapter 10
Richard was harder.
Not because he controlled more.
Because he was my father.
He expected that to matter.
It did.
Just not the way he wanted.
We sat alone in the backyard the next morning.
The mud had been washed from the patio.
Noah’s destroyed superhero shirt hung over a chair because he refused to let me throw it away.
Richard stared at it.
“I shouldn’t have laughed.”
“No.”
“I thought Madison was being stupid.”
“You still laughed.”
“Yes.”
Good.
No excuse.
Then:
“I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”
“No.”
He looked toward the broken lawn rack.
“You hit hard.”
I almost smiled.
“Genetics.”
He did smile.
Briefly.
Then reality returned.
“What happens to me?”
I thought carefully.
Richard was removed from every financial decision permanently.
That part was simple.
His public role changed too.
No longer “head of Morgan.”
The title had been theater for years.
I ended it.
“You’re retiring.”
His face hardened.
“You can’t retire me.”
“I already did.”
“I built this family.”
“You built part of it.”
His jaw tightened.
“Your mother—”
“Built part.”
I leaned forward.
“Kevin built part. I built part. Captains built part. Staff built part.”
He looked offended.
Good.
“No single man is Morgan.”
That was the belief poisoning all of us.
Richard whispered:
“You’re taking my life.”
I looked toward Noah’s shirt again.
“No.”
My voice softened slightly.
“I’m taking away the position you used to avoid having one.”
He frowned.
“A life?”
“Yes.”
He could still be grandfather.
Father.
Elder.
Person.
If he wanted.
But no more pretending every family relationship automatically carried command.
Richard looked old again.
Then asked:
“Will Noah still see me?”
I did not answer for my son.
“I’ll ask Noah.”
That hurt him.
It was supposed to.
Not as punishment.
As reality.
May you like
Access to children belonged partly to the children and their parents.
Not to titles.
