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 wind cut across the expansive asphalt of the long-term parking lot at Toronto Pearson International Airport, carrying with it the biting, damp chill of a Canadian March. I adjusted my scarf, gripping the handle of my carry-on bag tighter. I had flown in from Vancouver on a red-eye, fueled by stale airline coffee and…
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