Chapter 3 - Cracks in the Empire
The four men at Nathaniel's table suddenly looked like they wished the marble floor would swallow them whole. One by one, sensing the shift in momentum, they quietly placed their napkins on the table, murmured rushed excuses, and slipped out of the private room, abandoning the man they had been kissing up to five minutes earlier.
"Sir," Gerald squeaked, his voice cracking as he looked at Owen, then at me. "I... I didn't realize..."
"Gerald," I said softly, feeling a surge of strength I hadn't possessed an hour ago. "Bring Mr. Owen Crowe a menu. And bring me a glass of water."
Gerald scurried away like a frightened mouse.
Nathaniel stood alone at his ruined dinner table. The powerful tycoon looked small, stripped of his audience and his leverage. "Owen, be reasonable. I came here tonight to talk about the legacy board. If you trigger the elder trust, the shareholders will start asking questions about your mother’s estate—"
Owen held up a hand, cutting his father off instantly. He didn't want to hear it. He turned his back on Nathaniel, pulled out a chair for me at the adjacent table, and gestured for me to sit down.
For a moment, I hesitated. A waitress sitting with a guest was a cardinal sin in fine dining. But tonight, the rules of the Ellery Room had been shattered into a thousand pieces.
I sat down. Owen sat opposite me.
Nathaniel stared at us, his face twisting into a mask of pure venom. "You'll regret this, both of you," he spat, grabbing his coat. "You think a broke waitress and a deaf boy can run Crowe Enterprises? I built this empire."
"Your father built it, Nathaniel," a deep, booming voice echoed from the entrance of the private room.
An elderly man in a wheelchair rolled into the room, pushed by a formidable-looking woman in a charcoal suit. The man wore a tailored vintage tweed suit, his white hair immaculately combed, his eyes sharp as flint despite his advanced age.
Arthur Crowe. The founder of Crowe Enterprises.
"Father?" Nathaniel gasped, turning pale. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Aspen."
"I came back because my grandson texted me an hour ago," Arthur said, his voice cutting through the room like a razor. "He told me you were bringing him to dinner. I wanted to see if you had finally learned how to be a father." Arthur looked at the ruined table, the spilled wine, and his grandson’s tense shoulders. "I see you're still the same arrogant disappointment you were twenty years ago."
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Arthur signaled to his security guard, who produced a thick manila folder.
"Nathaniel," Arthur said coldly. "The board met electronically thirty minutes ago. Based on your misuse of company assets and the activation of Owen's trust clause, you have been relieved of your duties as CEO. Effective immediately."
