“What’s your name?” Robert asked, surprised by the gentleness in his own voice.
“Daniel,” the boy replied.
“Daniel Mitchell.”
“Mitchell…” Robert repeated. The name tasted like fear and hope at the same time.
“Where is your father now?”
Daniel looked down at the marble floor. His shoulders shook.
“He passed away three months ago, sir.”
The world collapsed.
“How?” Robert asked through a knot in his throat.
“Lung cancer. He worked construction his whole life. Dust. Chemicals. No insurance. By the time he saw a doctor, it was too late.”