There was a dark smear of grease across his cheek.

He didn’t look up at me, keeping his focus entirely on the metal frame in front of him.

I went back to my car and drove back to Palo Alto.

Over the next three days, my mother’s presence felt like a gathering storm.

She didn’t call me directly, but I felt her influence in the small, sharp shifts within the company.

A supplier in Munich suddenly delayed a shipment of critical inverters, citing sudden compliance reviews.

A local news outlet ran a critical piece on the environmental impact of solar manufacturing, quoting an unnamed industry source who pointed directly at Solar Reach’s older facilities.

Then came the emails from my mother to the board members.

One of our friendly directors, a retired professor named Dr. Aris, forwarded one to me.

*The company is losing its focus under current leadership,* Helen had written. *My son, a Stanford MBA, was forced into manual labor to satisfy a personal grudge. This is not how we build a stable enterprise.*

I stared at the screen, my hands cold.