Chapter 6 - The Arrival of the Cousin
“Aunt... Aunt Eleanor?” Gregory stuttered, taking a step backward toward the exit, his hand instinctively reaching for the door handle.
The security guard behind him quietly stepped to the side, blocking the latch with his broad frame.
“Don't leave so soon, Gregory,” Julian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “We were just admiring your new operational policies. Anna was kind enough to give us a full demonstration.”
Gregory swallowed hard, his charismatic charm instantly collapsing. He adjusted his silk tie with nervous, jerky motions. Unlike Julian, who possessed the quiet, natural dignity of his father, Gregory had always been a loud, flashy imitation of wealth. He drove leased sports cars, wore watches he couldn't afford, and constantly chased the approval of high-society elites who looked down on him behind his back.
“Julian, what is the meaning of this theater?” Gregory tried to bluster, attempting to regain his footing. “Why are the front doors locked? There are patrons outside complaining that they were turned away during peak Friday service! Do you have any idea how much revenue we’re losing by the minute?”
“We aren't losing anything that hasn't already been stolen,” Julian said, walking toward him.
Each step Julian took seemed to make Gregory shrink. The two men were of similar height, but the moral weight in the room leaned entirely toward my son.
“What are you talking about?” Gregory asked, glancing frantically at Anna, who was still weeping against the pillar. “Anna, what did you do?”
“She didn't do this alone, Gregory,” I said, stepping forward.
Gregory looked at me, his eyes wide with guilt. “Aunt Eleanor... what are you doing here? You haven't set foot in the flagship since Uncle Robert passed. You told the board you wanted nothing to do with the day-to-day operations.”
“I came here to remember your uncle,” I said softly, looking him directly in the eye. “It was forty years ago tonight that Robert and I secured the bank loan to buy the old warehouse that became this restaurant. I wanted to sit in the corner, eat the beef stew recipe Robert spent six months perfecting, and look at the city he loved. But your general manager didn't think I belonged here.”
Gregory turned sharply toward Anna, panic turning into immediate betrayal. “You idiot! Did you disrespect my aunt?”
“You told me to clear the floor of non-spenders!” Anna shrieked back, refusing to take the fall alone. “You told me to make sure the dining room looked like a magazine spread for the prospective private equity investors arriving next week! You told me anyone who wasn't spending five hundred dollars was garbage!”
“Shut up!” Gregory roared, his face flushing crimson. “You’re fired! Get out! Pack your things and leave!”
“She’s not going anywhere just yet,” Julian interrupted, his voice cutting through Gregory’s outburst like a frozen blade. “And neither are you, Gregory.”
Julian gestured to Sarah Briggs. The legal counsel stepped forward, opening a second file on the tablet.
“Gregory,” Sarah said, her professional tone devoid of any emotion, “we’ve been tracking an unauthorized shell corporation registered under the name 'GV Hospitality Ventures' in Delaware. Over the last eighteen months, that entity has received over two point four million dollars in consulting fees and wholesale markups routed directly from this restaurant's operating accounts.”
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Gregory’s breath caught. His face went entirely pale, all the color fleeing his features. “That’s... that’s completely legal restructuring! My lawyers reviewed it!”
“Your lawyers didn't review it with Eleanor Vance,” Julian replied. “Because every single dollar routed through those accounts was drawn from the Robert Vance Memorial Legacy Trust—a charitable endowment established specifically to fund culinary scholarships and health insurance for our line cooks.”
