“She wants you to believe that,” I said. “But she doesn’t have as much power as you think.”

Derek shook his head, his face pale under the dim lights of the cafe.

“You don’t understand,” he said. “You got out. You built your own thing. I’ve been living under her thumb for twenty-five years.”

“I got out because I realized she would never be satisfied,” I said. “The more you give her, the more she takes.”

Derek looked out the window at the passing cars.

“I wanted that job,” he said, his voice barely audible. “It was exactly what I trained for.”

“Then go back to them,” I said. “Tell them you made a mistake.”

“I can’t,” he said. “I already turned them down. The position is probably filled.”

I watched his hands, noting how much they resembled our father’s—long, thin, and hesitant.

“There are other opportunities,” I said.

“Not for someone with my resume,” he said. “Everyone thinks I’m just a rich kid who got an MBA on his parents’ dime.”

“Is that what you think of yourself?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.