I’m sorry I destroyed the best thing I ever had.
I knew the handwriting.
Ryan.
I put the photograph in a drawer.
I didn’t tear it.
I didn’t keep it on my desk.
I simply put it away.
Some memories don’t need to be destroyed.
They only need to stop controlling you.
Two years later, I launched my own investment firm.
My father’s trust became the foundation.
The company grew faster than I expected.
I hired women who had been told they were too ambitious.
Women who had been dismissed.
Women who had been underestimated.
At our first annual dinner, I stood before three hundred employees.
I looked across the room.
Then I smiled.
“When people underestimate you,” I said, “don’t waste your energy convincing them.”
The room became quiet.
“Build something they can’t take away.”
Applause filled the ballroom.
I looked toward the windows.
