At Christmas dinner, my father told me and my grandfather—who uses a wheelchair—to leave immediately. I thought we had nowhere else to go. Then Grandpa calmly revealed the truth: he’d been living quietly with more than $2.3 billion and over a hundred properties. I used to believe the coldest thing on earth was a Portland winter. I was wrong. The coldest thing is your father scraping his chair back during Christmas dinner—crystal glasses catching the light, gold-rimmed plates laid out perfectly,