“Eighty percent,” he whispered to himself.

“Just eighty percent.”

“You won’t get that file out of this building, Martin,” my father said.

He took a slow step toward his father-in-law.

“Stay back, Daniel!” Martin yelled.

He reached into his coat pocket with his free hand.

He pulled out a heavy metal flashlight and pointed it like a weapon.

“I will put this through your skull if you come near me,” Martin said.

My father stopped walking.

He kept his hands visible, palms open.

“Look at yourself,” my father said quietly.

“You are a grandfather.”

“You are threatening your own family in a dark basement.”

“You are not my family,” Martin hissed.

“You are a parasite who stole my daughter.”

“And you stole the wealth that belonged to the Collins family.”

“I built this company with my own hands,” my father said.

“Your daughter spent my money while telling the world I was a failure.”

“She deserved every dime,” Martin said.

The progress bar on Martin’s phone beeped.

A green checkmark appeared on his screen.

“It’s done,” Martin whispered, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.