I never cancel meetings with my biggest clients. Never. My clients know they can reach me or one of my top men whenever they need me. That's why I only take on a limited number of clients. My company specializes in high-net-worth individuals who appreciate the personalized customer service we provide.

But when I find out Dad has collapsed and is already in an ambulance, there’s no other option. Mr. Mikhailov can always fly here again if he really needs to see me. I have to rush to the hospital.

When I enter the hospital room, Mom’s crying and Dad’s lying unconscious on the bed. A machine is beeping and a clear IV tube is jabbed into his forearm. While the doctors run their tests, Mom keeps a tight clasp around Dad’s hand, as if she’s trying to guide him back with her touch.

The doctors come back not long after Dad wakes up. They tell us something we already know: the surgery Dad had a few months ago wasn’t successful.

But they tell us something else—something we don’t already know: he only has one year to live.

I leave the room to ask the doctors about drug trials. There’s only a minuscule chance of them working and they cost a fortune, so I’m worried my parents are going to balk at the price if they hear the conversation.

But I have a fortune. And there’s only so much I can spend.

After buying a big penthouse in Manhattan, a few investment properties, and a private jet, I can’t really think of any more expensive toys I want. So why not spend my money on my family?

After a long talk with the doctors about his options, I slip back into Dad’s hospital room.

“How is he?” I take a seat beside my mom and put my arm around her shoulders, which are still shaking.

Mom tears her gaze away from Dad, who’s fallen asleep. “He’s okay. Just tired. He’s resting now,” she says, her cheeks wet with tears.

“Mom, this doesn’t have to be a…” I almost say “death sentence,” but I stop myself before the words come out of my mouth. My direct communication style, which works well in business meetings, doesn’t quite fit this setting. “This doesn’t have to be the end of the road,” I say finally. “Dad has other options.”

“You mean drug trials?” Mom asks softly with wariness in her tired eyes. “I know they’re a last resort, Heath.”

“It’s another chance to fight.”

“I’m tired of fighting. Your dad is tired of fighting,” Mom says.

“We’ll talk to Dad about it and see what he decides.” I know I’ll have a better chance of getting Dad to agree to my plan.

She knows it’s unlikely that Dad would heal, so Mom wants to ease his suffering and let him enjoy his last days. It hasn’t been easy on either one of them, this fight against Dad’s progressing illness.

But I know Dad would fight, knowing how much losing him would hurt Mom. They share a beautiful partnership filled with love and empathy.

I envy them. I once thought I’d grow up to find what they have, but it turns out that kind of love just doesn’t exist in this time, this age, and especially this place.

New York City makes you fall in love with its promise of something even better, just beyond your reach.

Having climbed up to the top, I realize it’s an empty promise, but I can’t stop. It doesn’t make any sense. What use is getting more, when I already have more than enough?

Yet, it’s like a compulsion at this point. The yardstick is no longer just my needs and wants—I have way more money than I’ll ever spend in my lifetime—but how well my peers are doing.

It’s a competition. It’s a dick-measuring contest. And it’s fucking addictive. There’s nothing like the feeling of winning.

That’s great for my success. But at the same time, my success also means that I’m surrounded by women who think like me, who live for the satisfaction of gaining victory over their competitors. Except instead of money, they’re after men with money.

A relationship with a woman like that can get expensive, and I’m speaking from experience.

“How much does it cost, Heath?” Mom asks.

“Huh?” I almost ask her if she’s talking about the women, then I realize she can’t read my thoughts. I should probably get some sleep soon. Just to make sure, I ask, “The drug trial?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I rub Mom’s shoulder soothingly. “I can afford it.”

Mom is quiet for a few seconds. “You know it probably won’t work, right?”

“I know.”

She lets out a big sigh. If her tear ducts weren’t already overworked, I’m sure she’d still be crying. Her eyes are still red and puffy, and her wrinkles have dug in deeper into her flesh.

“Thirty-five years,” she says as she rubs the back of Dad’s hand. “Thirty-five years together. We said we were going to grow old together, and I guess we’ve done that.”

“You’ll have a lot more years to spend together, Mom.”

She gives me a look. She knows I’m just saying what she wants to hear.

“I thought we were going to see the world together when he retired,” she says.

“You never told me about that.”

“We were going to travel to Europe,” Mom says with a wry smile. “Maybe buy an RV and travel to the south of France. There’s this winery your dad has always wanted to try.”

I fight the urge to tell her that they’ll get to do that, too. Hell, I’ll gift them a private jet so they won’t have to live in a cramped RV.

“We wanted to move to Florida after doing some traveling. We thought we’d get ourselves a nice little beach house. Somewhere in Daytona Beach would be perfect.”

I can buy that for them, too. And they don’t even have to wait for Dad to retire.

I mean, what the fuck? Dad makes about $90,000 a year as a CPA. It’s not a small salary compared to many people, of course. But I make that much in a slow week. They could’ve retired any time they wanted.

Still, I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want Mom to think about what could’ve been, about how Dad could’ve spent what little time he had traveling, instead of counting beans.

“We thought we’d visit you every few months, and more often once we have grandchildren.” Mom sighs with regret. “Your dad really wanted grandchildren. When you got married and Melanie said she wanted to have kids right away, he was so excited.”

“Melanie said that?” I can’t believe that heartless woman would lie to my parents like that.

She has never wanted a family with me. It was all a lie.

She just wanted to stick around long enough to get the big pay-out. No wonder she insisted on a huge divorce settlement in the pre-nup. I was too blind to see it before the wedding, but I realized later that the pre-nup was her retirement plan.

“Yes.” Mom nods with a small smile on her dry, cracked lips. “Your dad was already talking about taking the kid to Disneyland.”

I had no idea.

“You remember how strict your Grandpa Joe was?” Mom asks.

“Yeah.”

“Well, your dad used to be really close with his Granddad, who always spoiled him. He said he was going to be the world’s best granddad. His goal was to one day get one of those stupid ‘Best Grandpa Ever’ mugs.” Mom laughs softly at her husband’s silliness.

In moments like this, I can’t console Mom with talk of RVs, beach houses, or even early retirements.

But just the thought of having a grandchild makes her laugh.

Maybe that’s something I can give her.

Why not?

I can give her everything else. Why not a grandchild?

Yes, I’m done with women. Thanks to my parents, I have a high standard for a relationship that no woman has ever come close to meeting.

I thought I’d settle with Melanie—everybody settles, right? I thought I could be happy. But I was wrong. So I threw away my dream of a family, along with my dream of a healthy, happy relationship.

But maybe I don’t have to throw the literal baby out with the bathwater. Maybe I can have a baby, without suffering the complications of a relationship.

Again, I have a fortune and nothing to spend it on. Why not use that money to build the family I’ve always wanted?