Chapter 4
Five million dollars.
I repeated the number silently.
Anthony had once borrowed fifty dollars from me because he couldn't afford groceries.
We used to split one plate of food after working fourteen-hour shifts.
We promised each other that if either of us became successful, we would never forget where we started.
Now someone was claiming he had accepted five million dollars to help take my restaurant.
I looked at Vanessa.
“Are you certain?”
She nodded slowly.
“I heard my father discussing it on the phone.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Why didn't you say anything?”
She looked ashamed.
“Because I thought it was a normal business arrangement.”
I stared at her.
“You thought paying my former partner five million dollars to guarantee my cooperation was normal?”
She swallowed.
“I didn't ask questions.”
“That seems to be a pattern.”
Her face reddened.
I immediately regretted how sharply I spoke.
Not because she didn't deserve criticism.
But because anger wouldn't help me understand what was happening.
I took a breath.
“Vanessa, I need you to tell me everything you know.”
She sat down.
“My father's company has been struggling.”
I remained silent.
“Several developments failed. Interest rates increased. Investors started pulling out.”
I nodded.
That part wasn't surprising.
Commercial real estate had been difficult for many companies.
She continued.
“He needs a major project to restore confidence.”
“And my property is that project?”
“Yes.”
“Why mine?”
She hesitated.
“Because your restaurant is successful.”
I shook my head.
“That's not enough.”
Vanessa looked down.
Then whispered, “There's a hotel group interested in the entire block.”
My stomach tightened.
“What hotel group?”
“Crescent International.”
I recognized the name.
They operated luxury hotels across the country.
“What are they offering?”
“I don't know the exact amount.”
“Vanessa.”
She closed her eyes.
“Dad said the assembled properties could sell for nearly eighty million.”
I stared at her.
Eighty million.
If Richard acquired my building for twelve million and combined it with nearby properties, he could potentially make an enormous profit.
Now the scheme made financial sense.
But that didn't explain Anthony.
Or the forged signature.
I stood.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Vanessa looked up.
“Are you going to cancel the deal?”
“The investment discussion is already suspended.”
Her face crumpled.
“My father is going to be furious.”
I studied her.
“Are you afraid of him?”
She looked away.
That was answer enough.
“Vanessa?”
She shook her head.
“It's complicated.”
I remembered Richard Williams.
His expensive suits.
His effortless confidence.
The way he treated people as though their value depended on their usefulness.
I had always assumed Vanessa inherited her arrogance from privilege.
Now I wondered whether she had also inherited fear.
My phone vibrated.
Rachel had sent a message.
“Do not discuss property documents with anyone connected to Williams Development. Call me immediately.”
I glanced at Vanessa.
“I need to speak with my attorney.”
She stood.
“Marcus, please don't tell my father I said anything.”
I looked at her.
“I won't promise to hide evidence.”
She nodded.
“I understand.”
As she reached the doorway, she stopped.
“Marcus?”
“Yes?”
“I meant what I said earlier.”
I waited.
“I'm sorry for humiliating you.”
I looked at her for a long moment.
“Then make sure you never treat another person that way.”
She lowered her head.
“I will.”
After she left, I called Rachel.
I explained everything.
She was silent for several seconds.
Then she said, “This is worse than I thought.”
“What did you find?”
“The buyout agreement with Anthony contains a restrictive covenant.”
I frowned.
“What covenant?”
“A clause preventing him from representing himself as an owner or exercising authority over company assets after the settlement.”
“That should protect me.”
“It does.”
“Then what's the problem?”
“Someone attached an earlier operating agreement to the proposed sale documents.”
I sat down.
“The agreement from before I bought him out?”
“Yes.”
“That's years old.”
“I know.”
“Then it's invalid.”
“His authority under it was terminated by the buyout. But the paperwork appears designed to create confusion.”
I gripped my phone.
“Can they actually transfer the building?”
“Not lawfully based on what we've seen. But a fraudulent filing can still create expensive problems.”
I exhaled slowly.
“What do we do?”
“We're requesting certified records, notifying the title insurer, and preparing to seek emergency court protection.”
“Good.”
“Marcus, I also want you to preserve any surveillance footage from tonight.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because it may establish who met with whom and when.”
I thought of Vanessa.
Daniel.
Claire.
The investors.
“Consider it done.”
Rachel continued.
“And don't contact Anthony.”
I hesitated.
“Why?”
“Because I want to know what he's planning before he knows we're investigating.”
I agreed.
But after the call ended, I couldn't stop thinking about him.
Anthony had been more than a business partner.
He was the person who convinced me to keep going after our first restaurant failed.
I remembered sitting beside him on a loading dock one freezing night.
We had just lost our lease.
Our bank account contained less than two hundred dollars.
I told him I was finished.
He looked at me and said, “Marcus, one failure doesn't mean we're failures.”
I never forgot those words.
Now I wondered whether that friendship had been real.
The following morning, I went to my parents' house.
My mother opened the door wearing her favorite blue sweater.
“Baby!”
She hugged me tightly.
At thirty-three, I still felt like a little boy whenever my mother held me.
My father appeared from the kitchen.
“Look who finally remembered where we live.”
I laughed.
“Morning, Dad.”
He embraced me.
I followed them inside.
The house was small.
Nothing like the luxury apartment I lived in.
But it was the place where I learned how to work, dream, and survive.
My mother noticed something immediately.
“Marcus, what's wrong?”
I tried to smile.
“Just business.”
She folded her arms.
“Sit down.”
I obeyed.
Because no matter how many restaurants I owned, my mother could still make me feel twelve years old.
I explained the proposed investment.
The forged document.
Anthony's possible involvement.
And Vanessa's warning.
My parents listened quietly.
When I finished, my father leaned back.
“Richard Williams.”
I nodded.
“Do you remember him?”
My father laughed without humor.
“I remember more than you think.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
He looked toward my mother.
She lowered her eyes.
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Dad?”
He sighed.
“Years ago, before you were born, I worked on one of Richard's father's properties.”
I stared at him.
“So?”
“He refused to pay several contractors.”
My father rubbed his hands together.
“We fought for months to get our money.”
I remembered growing up hearing stories about missed paychecks and unpaid invoices.
But I had never known the names.
“What happened?”
“We settled for less than we were owed.”
I shook my head.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't want you carrying my anger.”
My mother touched his arm.
Then she looked at me.
“Marcus, there's something else.”
I turned.
She hesitated.
“Anthony came here two weeks ago.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He asked about you.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“What did he want?”
My father looked furious.
“He said he wanted to make peace.”
I stared at them.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
My mother looked hurt.
“He asked us not to. He said he wanted to surprise you.”
I stood.
“Did he say anything about the restaurant?”
My mother nodded.
“He asked whether you still kept the original company records in your office.”
A chill ran through me.
I looked toward my father.
“And what did you tell him?”
My father swallowed.
“I told him I thought you did.”
I closed my eyes.
Then I remembered something.
Three days earlier, the alarm at my corporate office had briefly malfunctioned.
Security told me it was a technical issue.
I hadn't investigated.
Now I reached for my phone.
I called my security director.
“James, I need you to review the office cameras from Tuesday night.”
“Why, sir?”
“Someone may have entered my office.”
He went quiet.
Then he said, “Mr. Bennett, there's something I should have told you.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“The camera outside your office stopped recording for seventeen minutes.”
I gripped the phone.
“When?”
“Tuesday night.”
I looked at my parents.
James continued.
“And just before the recording stopped, someone used an old executive access card.”
I could barely speak.
“Whose card?”
There was a pause.
May you like
Then James answered.
“Anthony Price.”
