A Shadowed Past
Later, when the lawyers prepared the documents, they brought me troubling news. Lewis had a criminal record. Burglary. A year in prison. The board seized on it, furious at the idea that my empire could fall into the hands of an ex-convict.
So I called Lewis into my study.
“You’ve been hiding something,” I told him.
He didn’t flinch. He sat across from me, hands clasped. “I was nineteen. Stupid. Angry at the world. I broke into a car, got caught, and I deserved the time. Prison taught me respect—both for myself and others. I don’t ask for pity. Just the chance to prove who I am now.”
I stared at him, searching for a crack of deceit. There was none. His honesty was worth more than all the polished lies I had heard from men in silk ties.
