“Ethan, where the hell are you?” David barked. “They’re getting restless. We need signatures now.”

I looked Clara dead in the eye. “David. Kill the deal.”

There was dead silence on the line. “What? Ethan, you’re not making sense.

We’ve worked on this for two years. This makes you king of the hill. If you don’t sign today, they walk.”

“Let them walk,” I said quietly, my voice steadier than it had been in years. “I don’t want to be king anymore. I have somewhere else to be.”

I hung up the phone and slid it into my pocket. Clara was staring at me, her mouth slightly open in pure shock. I slid out of the booth, walked around to her side, and got down on one knee so I was eye level with my sons. My hands were shaking, but not from adrenaline. From purpose.

“Clara,” I said, looking up at her. “I have spent my entire life building an empire of absolutely nothing. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to take me back. But I am not walking out that door without you three. I want to be their father. I want to try.”

For the first time that morning, the tough facade cracked. Tears spilled over Clara’s eyelashes. Sam reached out and touched my face, leaving a sticky syrup print on my cheek. It was worth more than every dime I had in the bank. I had walked into that coffee shop a millionaire who had it all figured out, but I only became a rich man the second I decided to stay.