At the airport parking lot, I found my son sleeping in his car with his twins. I asked, “Where is the $150K I invested in your startup?” He broke down. “My wife and her family took everything and claimed I’m mentally unstable.” I got furious. “Pack your things. We’re fixing this now.”
The biting March wind cut across the parking lot at Toronto Airport. I had flown in on a red-eye, fueled by the warm anticipation of surprising my son, Michael, for his birthday. But as I navigated the rows of the cheapest long-term parking, I froze.
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