It was sealed.
My original name had been written by someone whose handwriting I’d never seen.
I looked toward Eleanor.
“You knew my father?”
She nodded.
“How?”
“Thomas worked for me.”
The room became painfully quiet.
“When?”
“Long before Halston Capital became what it is today.”
Eleanor looked at the envelope.
“Your father was one of the first people who believed my husband and I could build something.”
I sat down slowly.
She began telling me about Thomas Vale.
He’d been twenty-four when they met.
Brilliant, reckless, amusing, and frequently late.
I managed a faint smile.
“That sounds unfortunate.”
Eleanor remembered one particular incident.
“He once arrived forty minutes late to a financing meeting because he stopped to help a man whose truck had broken down.”
My smile disappeared.
She noticed immediately.
“Yes.”
Eleanor pushed the envelope toward me.
“You’re more like him than you know.”
I stared at it.
