giving an interview to a major tech blog, looking confident a

. "It' s unfortunate that Ms. Miller, a talented engineer I once mentored, chose this pat

he was rewriting history, painting my father as a mad scientist an

k. He was my father' s protégé, the brilliant young engineer who could almost ke

are, proud smile on his face. "He' s got the killer i

, wonderful world my father and I lived in. We spent late nights at the lab, fueled by coffee and

ion began to grow, unchecked. He started talking less about innovation and more about market share. He' d look at my fat

s hunger for success. It was the siren song of Silicon Valley fame and f

my input on the technology. "Let me handle the busine

with him. I refused. I wanted to build on my father' s work, not package it fo

it was happening. I read about it in a press release, just like this one. He was consuming my past, piece by

as erasing my father. "This isn' t what he would ha

ark had shot back, his voice like ic

ast time we sp

ave of exhaustion so profound it almost buckled me. He had been planning this for years. Ev

d won. He though

fted. The grief and the shock hardened into a cold, clear reso

p, my han

quiet but firm. "Thank you for

un. I had one thing Mark didn' t: the box. The last, unsorted, chaotic box of my father' s final r