Anger mixed with confusion crossed my father’s face.
“And what gives you the right to lecture me about respect?”
Ethan drew a slow breath.
“My last name doesn’t mean anything to you, does it? What if I told you my father’s name was Andrew?” he asked quietly.
My father frowned.
“Andrew?”
“You knew him once,” Ethan continued. “He was a business partner of yours until you forced him out. Took everything he had. He went from owning a company to scrubbing floors. And that’s how I grew up.”
The shock spread through the room as my father’s face lost its color.
“That can’t be… that was years ago,” he stammered. “You’re his son?”
Ethan nodded.
“He never recovered. But he raised me to be better than bitterness. And here I am.”
My father looked away, his shoulders suddenly heavy.
Then, to my complete surprise, he dropped to his knees.
