Chapter 3 - Clara’s Arrival
The heavy oak door opened again, and this time, the atmosphere in the room shifted entirely.
Clara Carter stood in the doorway, her apron still tied around her waist, her hair pulled back into a tired, messy bun. Her eyes were wide with shock, her face pale as she looked from David Sterling to Vincent Kane, and finally, to her daughter sitting safely in the oversized leather chair drinking chocolate milk.
"Rory?!" Clara gasped, rushing across the room and dropping to her knees beside her daughter's chair. "Rory, what on earth are you doing? I told you to stay in the office! Mr. Kane, I am so, so sorry, she doesn't understand—"
"Mommy, look!" Rory interrupted happily, holding up a half-eaten chicken tender. "The nice man gave me chocolate milk. And he told that mean man to give us our money back!"
Clara stared at Vincent, tears welling up in her exhausted eyes. "Mr. Kane... I don't know what she told you, but please, don't hurt him. I just wanted my paycheck so I could pay the landlord. I didn't mean to cause trouble."
Vincent stood up from his chair, walking around the table with slow, deliberate steps. He stopped a few feet away from Clara and knelt down so they were at eye level. The terrifying aura that made hardened criminals shake seemed to soften around the edges when he looked at her.
"You didn't cause trouble, Clara," Vincent said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Your daughter collected a debt that was legally and morally yours. The only person who caused trouble here is sitting across the table."
David shrank back in his chair, unable to meet Clara’s gaze.
Vincent reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out a heavy, cream-colored envelope, placing it gently in Clara’s trembling hands.
"Inside is a certified cashier’s check for ten thousand dollars, fully cleared," Vincent told her. "Along with a complete transfer of ownership for Sterling’s Bistro, signed over by its previous owner under a legal settlement regarding back wages and asset forfeiture."
Clara dropped the envelope as if it were burning hot. "Transfer of... of what? I don't want a restaurant! I just wanted my wages!"
"Consider it a promotion," Vincent said with a faint smile. "You know how the kitchen runs better than anyone. You know who works hard and who steals from the register. David is officially retired from the restaurant business effective five minutes ago. As for Marcus Vance, he’s currently being escorted off the premises by my associates."
David leaped to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. "You stole my restaurant! You can't just take my life's work over a few weeks of missed wages!"
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Vincent stood up slowly, towering over David once more.
"I didn't steal it, David," Vincent said coldly. "You traded it. You traded it for a Porsche, a pile of illegal tax evasion schemes, and the arrogance to think nobody would ever check the math on a little girl's purple stars."
