Chapter 9
Frank’s real fear was not Leo.
It was me.
He admitted it after hours of pretending this was about continuity.
“You changed the organization.”
“Yes.”
“You softened it.”
“No.”
His eyes sharpened.
“You let people question.”
“Yes.”
“You explain decisions.”
“Yes.”
“You let family say no.”
“Yes.”
Every accusation sounded like praise to me.
Frank hated that.
To him, leadership was distance.
Fear.
Silence.
A child who cried openly represented everything he thought I was allowing to decay.
Then he said it.
“If Leo grows up like you’re raising him, he’ll think power needs permission.”
I stared.
“Good.”
Frank’s jaw tightened.
That answer separated us completely.
He wanted a grandson who would inherit certainty.
I wanted a son who understood consequence.
He wanted Olivia because she had learned to perform confidence.
Never mind that the performance came from fear of disappointing Damon.
Appearance was enough.
I looked at my father.
“You’re not choosing between children.”
He said nothing.
“You’re choosing between two ideas of power.”
Silence.
“And using them as props.”
That landed.
For the first time, his expression changed from defiance to something closer to shame.
May you like
Not enough.
But real.
