Chapter 8 - I DIDN’T TAKE A JOB FROM MY FATHER
After the divorce finalized, everyone assumed I would work for Sterling Capital.
I didn’t.
Dad offered.
I declined.
“Too proud?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then?”
“I need to know I can rebuild without becoming your employee.”
He considered.
“Fair.”
Then:
“Can I invest?”
“No.”
He groaned.
“Can I buy lunch?”
“Yes.”
“Progress.”
I founded a small forensic-accounting practice.
Hayes & Rowe Forensic Advisory.
No Sterling in the name.
My first office had stained carpet and a heater that made alarming noises.
My first client was a regional nonprofit missing $87,000.
Then a family manufacturer.
Then a hospital contractor.
Within five years, I had nineteen employees.
Not an empire.
A real business.
I understood fraud differently now.
Numbers were rarely the deepest story.
Behind them were excuses.
Fear.
Entitlement.
Family pressure.
People telling themselves they would put everything back before anyone noticed.
I became very good at noticing.
Leo grew.
He had Rowan’s dark hair.
My eyes.
Dad’s tendency to argue with instructions.
Rowan maintained contact during incarceration through calls and visits structured around Leo’s age and welfare.
After release, parenting time expanded slowly.
Therapy.
Employment.
Consistency.
No assumption that biology erased consequences.
Rowan never returned to high-level corporate finance.
He worked first for a nonprofit reentry accounting program.
Later for a small manufacturing company willing to hire him after disclosure.
Less money.
More honesty.
He complained less.
Selina’s relationship with Leo remained limited.
She disliked that.
Too bad.
May you like
Boundaries did not exist to make her happy.
---
