He sat with his wife’s photo, waiting for a son who had already boarded without him

of breathing. For the first time in nine years, I wasn’t sequestered in a windowless conference room at Brixell DataWorks, putting out fires for executives who had never bothered to learn my surname. I wasn’t canceling dinner plans, forfeiting holidays, or apologizing to friends for being perpetually “on call.”

I was simply being still. My name is Fiorina continue reading …