Chapter 25 - MARA AND DAMIANTwo years after the wake, Damian asked to meet without lawyers.
I said no.
Then changed my mind.
Public restaurant.
Daytime.
No family office.
No alcohol.
He arrived early.
No gold watch.
I noticed that for no meaningful reason.
He said:
“I’m sorry about the inhaler.”
“You’ve said that.”
“I know.”
“What do you want?”
“To understand why you pressed the button.”
I stared.
“You crushed my inhaler.”
“I know.”
“You shoved me.”
“I know.”
“You were trying to use my stock in a structure I rejected.”
He looked down.
“I didn’t think of the funeral as connected.”
“I did.”
He nodded slowly.
That mattered.
Then:
“I thought the alert would freeze the documents. I didn’t know the lenders would start calling you immediately.”
“So you didn’t mean to blow up my financing.”
“No.”
“Disappointing.”
I almost smiled.
He did too.
Then became serious.
“I hated you that day.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because Grandpa trusted your no more than my plan.”
There.
Not shares.
Not money.
Trust.
Damian had interpreted Grandfather protecting my refusal as choosing me.
I said:
“He also wrote me a letter telling me I was cowardly.”
Damian laughed.
Actually laughed.
“That sounds like him.”
We did not become friends.
May you like
But the conversation became the first time we stopped arguing over who Grandfather loved more.
Dead people should not be forced to referee adults indefinitely.
