I was at my desk. It wasn’t the corner office, but the space was big. I swiveled my chair around to look out the windows. The view was north, the buildings of Billings and then the brown buttes and crags in the distance. I was on the fourth floor, and I could see for miles. I could take over the huge corner office that had been my father’s, but I had no interest. That space was tainted, just like everything else he touched.

“You have the board’s agenda?”

“In your inbox,” he replied.

I had to reassure the group that while things were going to change at Wainright Holdings, it was all going to be for the better. The company had been under my father’s ruthless thumb for too long. It was finally time to steer it the way I wanted. There were going to be some holdouts, those who were still loyal to my father even though it was unwarranted. They were no longer going to get favors or perks or bonuses. They could vote me out as CEO even though I was the primary stakeholder, but my brothers and I combined held more than fifty percent. I wasn’t being replaced because South, East, and West wanted nothing to do with the place.

“I need you to start to merge my father’s meetings in with my own. Connect with Janice,” —his assistant who was ridiculously loyal, meaning he’d either been fucking her or well-compensating her, or both— “to make it happen.”

“I have. The first one should be here any minute.” He didn’t tell me there weren’t enough hours in the day for two schedules worth of meetings, but it had to be done. I had to tackle Macon’s business and make it my own and I studied my calendar on my tablet trying to figure out how to make it all fit.

“Call Mrs. Sanchez and coordinate a moving company to empty my father’s bedroom completely. All the furniture, clothes. Donate it to a charity.”

The woman had been the ranch’s housekeeper for over a decade. She handled the cleaning staff, the cook, food. Anything that happened inside the main house, she dealt with so I didn’t have to.

I’d work through the rest of the house later, like figuring out how to get rid of all those animal head trophies while honoring the animals’ lives needlessly taken solely for my father’s amusement. It wasn’t as if he’d eaten the meat from any of those kills. At least someone in need would be wearing his clothes and shoes. My father would be rolling over in his grave. He’d probably rather burn the expensive things instead of seeing someone else use them. Perhaps it was payback what I was doing, but it felt hollow. Like I was never going to win.