I sat across from him at the polished wooden table, my notebook open, pen in hand. I should have been paying attention to the way he broke down the strategies, the patient way he explained every step.

My father had been right…he was the perfect mentor. Six months under his guidance and I’d learned more than I ever thought possible.

But tonight, something was different.

The house was too quiet. No footsteps in the hall, no background voices…just the two of us, his deep voice rolling over me like velvet, his eyes focused on the page while I… couldn’t focus on anything but him. The silver at his temples. The...