“You’re a big boy, Ryan. You’re thirty-two. You can sleep in one of your leased luxury cars,” I said.
“Dad, I’m sorry! I was drunk! I didn’t mean it!” he sobbed openly into the phone.
“I counted thirty slaps, Ryan. That’s thirty opportunities to stop. Thirty opportunities to remember I was your father.
But you didn’t.
And today, I have ten million cash in my account, and you have forty minutes to get your wife off another man’s property.”
“Please, Dad! Don’t do this to us!”
“Oh, and one more thing,” I added quietly. “Check your wrist.”
Ryan paused, confused. “What?”
“The antique Rolex I gave you last night? The one you threw on the floor? I picked it back up.
It’s on my wrist right now.
It was meant for a man who understands the value of hard work and respect.
