Chapter 10 - A Clean Yard
Thomas grabbed the weeping Daniel roughly by the collar and dragged him back to his rusty, smoking car.
We watched in absolute silence as the ruined man drove away, disappearing in a thick cloud of dust.
I turned slowly back to Lion, who was quietly picking up his heavy iron pickaxe again.
"You can put that down now, son," I said quietly, the anger finally leaving my body entirely.
Lion stopped, looking at me with deep uncertainty and fear in his eyes.
"The oak root is still stuck deep in the ground, Dad," he said, gesturing to the hole.
"Then we will pull it out of the ground together," I replied, taking off my expensive suit jacket and laying it on the hood of the car.
I carefully rolled up the sleeves of my custom-made, expensive dress shirt.
I walked over to the dirt hole, spat into my palms, and grabbed the rough wooden handle of the pickaxe.
Lion smiled, real tears finally streaming freely down his dirt-streaked, exhausted face.
We worked side by side in the blistering, unforgiving heat for three straight hours.
We didn't talk about the billions of dollars, the corporate company, or the terrible dinner.
We just worked the hard land, exactly the way we used to when he was a little boy trying to help his dad.
When the sun finally began to set, casting an orange glow, the massive root violently snapped and came loose.
We both fell backward onto the soft dirt, laughing loudly and gasping for breath.
"You still have a incredibly heavy swing, old man," Lion joked, wiping dark mud from his cheek.
"And you still have a whole lot to learn about leverage, kid," I fired back with a massive grin.
I stood up slowly, my joints aching, and offered him my rough, calloused hand.
Lion took it firmly, and I pulled him strongly to his feet.
I didn't let go, instead pulling him into a tight, desperate embrace, patting his back heavily.
"Let's go home, Lion," I whispered into his ear.
The terrible nightmare of the past week was finally over.
My son had successfully found his way back from the toxic illusions of extreme wealth and fake prestige.
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He finally understood that true, lasting strength doesn't come from a tailored suit or a fancy corporate title.
It comes from a simple man, armed with a simple shovel, willing to do the hard work to clean up the yard.
