his daughter.
I told myself it was temporary.
Then one year became two.
Two became three.
Meanwhile, my younger brother Logan floated from one business idea to another.
First fitness.
Then travel.
Then something he called a “creative agency,” although the company seemed to have an expensive logo long before it had actual clients.
Logan called Dad every Sunday.
He called me whenever he needed money.
His fiancée, Madison, was more subtle.
During her first visit to the penthouse, she stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared at
