Chapter 5 - The Party Is Over
Helen shrieked, springing out of her chair with sudden agility that defied her supposed frail health. "You can't do that! Thomas, our guests are in the middle of dinner! There is an anniversary dance! The cake hasn't even been cut!"
"Then you better start pooling your pocket money, Mother," Thomas said evenly.
Marcus, looking relieved to have an excuse to take back control from the abusive patriarch who had terrorized his staff all afternoon, immediately pulled a wireless terminal from his jacket. "Consider it canceled, Mr. Mitchell. According to your contract clause, if the booking card is withdrawn during an event, the remaining balance must be settled immediately by the party host, or the room is vacated within fifteen minutes."
"Thomas, you ungrateful little bastard!" Robert roared, rising from his chair, his fists clenched, knocking over his half-full wine glass. The deep red liquid spread across the pristine white linen, soaking into Helen’s custom embroidered birthday banner. "After everything I gave you! I put a roof over your head! I made you a man!"
"You made me a man?" Thomas chuckled, stepping forward until he was inches from his father's face. Robert, despite his bluster, instinctively took half a step back. "You went bankrupt when I was nineteen, Dad. You gambled away your pension, lost your business, and drank away the college fund you promised me."
The room was so quiet that the hum of the air conditioner sounded like a jet engine.
"I took out commercial loans under my own name to save this family," Thomas continued, his voice ringing with absolute clarity. "I worked eighteen-hour shifts in hot kitchens, blistering my hands over grease fryers, building two diners from the ground up while you sat in your recliner and complained about the economy."
Helen was trembling with rage, her mask of sweet grandmotherly innocence completely shredded. "We raised you! You owe us!"
"I don't owe you a damn thing," Thomas said, looking her dead in the eye. "I have paid the mortgage on your four-bedroom house in Lakewood for the last eight years. I paid for the brand-new roof last spring. I pay your car leases, your supplemental medical insurance, and the four-hundred-dollar grocery delivery that arrives at your doorstep every single Tuesday."
Gasps erupted from the surrounding tables. Uncle Richard’s jaw hung open. Aunt Claire looked mortified. For years, Helen had bragged to the entire family circle that Robert had invested brilliantly in commercial real estate and that they were living comfortably off their independent wealth, graciously allowing Thomas to stay in their good graces despite his 'unconventional' lifestyle.
"You're lying!" Helen screamed, her voice cracking. "He's lying to humiliate us!"
"Marcus," Thomas turned to the manager, "how much is remaining on today's banquet bill, including the food, the bar tab, and the damages to the linens?"
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Marcus tapped swiftly on his tablet. "With the cancellation fee and open bar consumption to this hour, the outstanding balance is five thousand, four hundred and twenty dollars."
Thomas pulled his children close to his side. "Robert, Helen... you have fifteen minutes to settle the bill. Use the two thousand dollars you stole from the waitstaff. The rest should be easy for independent real estate tycoons."
