I did not wait for an answer.

I turned and walked toward the glass door.

“Dad, wait!” Logan begged, his voice breaking.

I did not stop.

I pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet corridor.

The air outside the conference room was cool and clean.

The next month, I bought a small cottage by a lake.

No unnecessary guest rooms.

No loud parties I never wanted.

Just golden morning light, good coffee, and complete peace.

I later heard that the house on Thunderbird Road was foreclosed.

Chelsea filed for divorce.

Logan had to move into a small apartment in the suburbs.

The calculations were finished.

The ledger was closed.

And for the first time in years, my personal balance was finally positive.