Chapter 12 - The Question Grandpa Got Wrong
I read Grandpa’s sentence five times.
Then I got angry.
Not at Mark.
At Grandpa.
Why did everybody keep acting like I had to choose?
Blood father.
Stepfather.
Real father.
Fake father.
Winner.
Loser.
As though love were a position only one man could occupy.
I drove Ray’s truck to the cemetery.
Grandpa’s grave was new enough that the stone still looked too clean.
I stood there and said:
“You were wrong.”
People nearby probably thought I was weird.
I didn’t care.
“I don’t have to decide which man gets the title.”
Mark was my biological father.
That fact did not disappear because he failed me.
Ray was the man who raised me through the years when Mark didn’t.
That fact did not need Mark’s failure to become true.
One man had given me blood.
One had given me consistency.
Maybe someday Mark could give me something better than money.
Maybe not.
But nobody got to turn my relationships into a competition anymore.
That evening, I showed Ray the letter.
He read it.
Then handed it back.
“Your grandfather sounds dramatic.”
I laughed.
“You’re not offended?”
“By what?”
“That I don’t want to choose.”
Ray looked genuinely confused.
“Eli, I’m not competing with Mark.”
That was exactly why he had already won something Mark had spent years trying to buy.
Then Ray became serious.
“You should know something.”
“What?”
“I talked to him.”
My eyebrows shot up.
“When?”
“Last week.”
“Why?”
“He called.”
“What did he want?”
“To apologize.”
I stared.
“To you?”
Ray nodded.
Mark had apologized for the birthday comment.
The car.
The way he treated Ray like an obstacle instead of a man who cared about me.
“What did you say?”
“I told him I didn’t need an apology.”
“Of course you did.”
Ray smiled.
“I told him you did.”
Then he added something unexpected.
“I also told him not to disappear again just because he screwed up.”
I stared at him.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you deserve the chance to decide what kind of relationship you want with him.”
That was Ray.
Even when Mark insulted him publicly, Ray refused to use me as revenge.
The following day, the Mercer board met.
Mark formally resigned as CEO.
He remained a shareholder but lost executive authority while the company restructured.
Paul Kendrick became interim CEO.
The outside investment passed.
My stake diluted.
So did Mark’s.
Nobody in the family controlled Mercer Industrial anymore.
Employees kept their jobs.
The Texas factory got funding under stricter oversight.
It wasn’t the perfect ending Grandpa probably imagined.
It was better.
Then Jasmine pulled me aside.
“There’s one financial issue left.”
I groaned.
“What now?”
“The car.”
I had almost forgotten.
The shiny birthday car remained in company storage.
Mark had relinquished any claim to decide what happened to it.
Legally, Mercer Industrial could transfer it to me now.
“Do you want it?”
I thought about that driveway.
The keys.
Mark’s smile.
Ray lowering his eyes.
“No.”
“What should we do with it?”
I smiled.
“I have an idea.”
A week later, the car was sold.
The money did not go to me.
It funded six trade-school scholarships for children of Mercer Industrial employees.
Mark found out from the company newsletter.
He sent me three words.
Good choice, son.
Then, for the first time, I called him.
Not Mark.
“Dad?”
May you like
Silence.
Then I heard him start crying.
