I am not grateful to my father, although people seem to expect me to be. For about two months, I thought I should feel that way. He had protected my inheritance and made sure the missing money was accounted for. But he had spent four years watching his own son take money from his account without ever confronting him.

Callum had lost his job in February 2021, the month before he became a signatory. He had two children in school and a mortgage he couldn’t cover. I learned those details afterward from his wife. Dad could have asked him what was happening. Callum could have admitted he was struggling. Neither said one honest sentence to the other. Instead, Dad kept records in a shoebox, arranged a legal document, and made a recording that would be played after his death. Six weeks after making it, he died. That isn’t the kind of justice I imagined. It feels like a man who couldn’t bear to be in the room for the conversation his family desperately needed.