Chapter 2 - THE BROTHER WHO DEMANDED ROYAL TREATMENT
By Friday morning, Darren had called Bellamy House four times.
I knew because Nora kept forwarding me the notes.
His first call concerned the seating arrangement. He wanted the best table in the Founders Room reserved for himself and his wife, Melissa, even though that table was normally given to the guest of honor.
His second call concerned the wine.
He wanted our sommelier to serve a particular vintage that cost more than the bottle he had originally selected.
His third call concerned the flowers.
He demanded white roses, gold ribbons, and a handwritten welcome card.
His fourth call concerned the bill.
“Did the host sound worried?” I asked Nora.
“Not exactly worried. More like he wanted reassurance that we wouldn't embarrass him.”
“How?”
“He asked whether we could confirm the total in advance, then asked whether the restaurant accepted several different payment methods.”
I rubbed my forehead.
Darren had always confused appearances with success.
He leased a luxury SUV he could barely afford, wore designer watches purchased on credit, and posted photographs from expensive restaurants while complaining privately about his mortgage.
I had never judged him for struggling financially.
I had judged him for pretending that everyone else existed to support his image.
At noon, my operations director, Marcus, came into my office.
“I reviewed the reservation. There is one concern.”
He placed a document on my desk.
“Your brother's payment authorization failed during the preliminary verification.”
“Did the system tell him?”
“Yes. He called afterward and asked us not to cancel the reservation.”
“Did he provide another card?”
“He promised to bring one on Sunday.”
I studied the document.
“Don't cancel anything yet. But don't authorize charges to an unverified card.”
Marcus nodded.
“Understood.”
After he left, I called Aunt Linda.
I hadn't spoken to her in three weeks. I had sent her a birthday message, but she hadn't replied.
When she answered, I heard the familiar warmth in her voice.
“Sweetheart! I was just thinking about you.”
“Happy early birthday, Aunt Linda.”
“Oh, thank you. Sixty. Can you believe it?”
I smiled.
“I can. You're going to celebrate properly.”
She laughed, then became quiet.
“Are you coming Sunday?”
The question caught me off guard.
“Did you want me there?”
“Of course I do. You're family.”
“Then why hasn't anyone invited me?”
Silence.
“Your mother said you were busy,” Linda finally replied. “She told me you had a business trip.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
They hadn't merely excluded me. They had invented a story to keep Aunt Linda from asking questions.
“I don't have a business trip,” I said gently.
“Oh.”
Her voice changed.
“I thought that sounded strange. You've never missed one of my birthdays.”
“Not intentionally.”
“I'll speak to your mother.”
“Please don't fight with her on my behalf. I don't want your birthday ruined.”
Linda sighed.
“I spent years watching you work yourself nearly to death to build that restaurant. I won't let anyone make you feel ashamed of it.”
My throat tightened.
“Thank you.”
We talked for another ten minutes. She told me about her garden, her new book club, and a trip she wanted to take after her birthday.
Before hanging up, she said something that stayed with me.
“Promise me you'll do one thing, sweetheart.”
“What?”
“Don't let your family turn you into someone who enjoys hurting people just because they hurt you.”
I promised.
After the call, I sat quietly for a moment.
I could reveal everything to Darren immediately. I could cancel the event and let him explain himself. I could even walk into the Founders Room on Sunday and announce that the entire restaurant belonged to me.
But none of those things would make Aunt Linda's birthday better.
Instead, I decided to protect the celebration and let the truth emerge naturally.
That afternoon, Darren sent a message to the family chat. Someone forwarded it to me.
“Everything is handled. This will be the most impressive birthday Linda has ever had. Please dress well and arrive on time. We need to make the right impression.”
Melissa replied with three heart emojis.
My mother wrote, “Your father and I are so proud of you for organizing this.”
I stared at that sentence for a long time.
They had never said they were proud of me.
Not when I paid off my first business loan. Not when a respected food magazine featured my restaurant. Not when Bellamy House received its first major culinary award.
But Darren had booked a dinner with money he might not possess, and suddenly he was the family hero.
I returned to work.
On Sunday, I would not humiliate anyone. I would not sabotage the event. I would not allow my employees to mistreat my relatives.
But I would also not lie to protect Darren's pride.
May you like
If his payment failed, he would have to deal with the consequences like every other customer.
And if my family discovered who owned Bellamy House, they would learn that the woman they had excluded was not the person who needed their approval.
