Chapter 2 - The Immediate Fallout
By the time Noah and I finished our steak at the front of the restaurant, my phone was practically vibrating off the table. Missed calls from Mom. Texts from Eric. Even a rare, panicked message from my father.
The reality of what I had done was finally sinking in for them.
Without my card attached to the "family account," the restaurant's automated system had run a pre-authorization check for the private room's minimum spend. Eric’s personal credit card, which he had tried to slide to the waiter to cover the "incidentals," had been aggressively declined. He didn't have the liquidity. He spent every dollar he earned from Dad’s mid-sized logistics company on his leased sports cars, his wife’s designer wardrobe, and their country club membership.
"Mom," Noah whispered, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. "Are they mad at us?"
"They’re mad that they have to pay for their own choices, Noah," I said gently, reaching across the table to ruffle his curly hair. "You never have to apologize for taking up space at a table. Remember that."
Suddenly, the heavy glass doors of the dining room burst open. Eric walked out, his tie loosened, his face flushed red with humiliation. He spotted me and marched over, ignoring the glances of the other diners.
"You think you’re so smart, don't you?" Eric snarled, leaning over our booth. "The bill is eight thousand four hundred dollars, Claire. Dad is in tears in the back room because the manager threatened to call the police if we don't settle it. You are going to walk back there, put your card back on the file, and stop this childish tantrum right now."
I took a slow sip of my water, looking up at him. "Or what, Eric?"
"Or I will lock you out of the family business," he threatened, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Dad is handing the CEO position to me tomorrow morning at the retirement brunch. I will strip your consulting contract. I will erase your name from the corporate registry. You’ll be broke by the end of the month."
I couldn't help but laugh. It was the same threat he had used for a decade. He truly believed that because I worked from home, I was just a hanger-on to the Voss family empire. He had no idea how deep his own ignorance ran.
"The retirement brunch is at ten o'clock tomorrow, right?" I asked, sliding out of the booth and throwing down enough cash to cover our meal and a generous tip.
May you like
"Yes," Eric snapped. "And you better show up ready to apologize to Dad."
"Oh, I’ll be there, Eric," I said, pulling Noah’s hand into mine as we walked past him toward the exit. "But I won't be the one apologizing. Make sure you wear your best suit. You're going to need it."
