Chapter 2 - Watch Me
Micah released Audrey’s hand.
That frightened her more than Brett’s entrance.
“Micah.”
Her son rose from his chair.
At twelve, he was already tall enough that his tuxedo made him look older from a distance. Up close, though, Audrey could still see the boy who left cereal bowls in his bedroom and slept with one foot outside the blanket.
“Sit down,” she whispered.
Micah looked at Sierra.
More specifically, at the brooch.
“No.”
Audrey caught his wrist.
“Whatever you’re thinking—”
“I’m not going to make a scene.”
That sounded suspiciously like something Brett would say immediately before making one.
Micah slipped away.
Brett had reached the center aisle. Sierra was still smiling, although the attention was clearly becoming less comfortable than she had anticipated.
Micah stopped directly in front of them.
Brett’s smile faltered.
“Buddy.”
“Dad.”
A photographer turned.
Then another.
Audrey stood.
Micah pointed at Sierra’s chest.
“That belongs to my mother.”
Sierra’s smile vanished.
Brett lowered his voice. “Micah, not here.”
“You told Mom you were getting it fixed.”
Several guests turned fully toward them.
Sierra touched the brooch.
“What?”
“You stole my great-grandmother’s brooch.”
“I did not steal anything.”
“Micah,” Brett warned.
But Micah looked directly at his father.
“Then tell everyone how she got it.”
Brett’s face hardened.
Audrey knew that expression too.
It meant control had become more important than truth.
“I gave Sierra the brooch for tonight,” Brett said. “It complemented the dress. Your mother is being emotional about something that—”
“You gave away Mom’s dead grandmother’s jewelry?”
The sentence landed harder because a child had said it.
Brett looked around.
A dozen phones were raised now.
“Enough.”
Micah nodded.
“Okay.”
Then he turned toward the stage.
And walked onto it.
“Micah!”
Audrey followed, but her son had already reached the podium.
The giant projection screens behind him still displayed the Holloway House anniversary logo.
Micah touched the microphone.
A burst of feedback rolled through the ballroom.
Four hundred people looked up.
“My dad was supposed to give a speech tonight,” Micah said.
Audrey stopped halfway to the stage.
Brett looked furious.
“But I made him a surprise.”
Micah reached into his jacket.
He removed a small black flash drive.
Audrey’s heart stopped.
She recognized it.
Three nights earlier, she had found Micah sitting at Brett’s office computer after midnight.
He had claimed he was printing homework.
Apparently, he had lied.
“Micah,” Brett said sharply.
Micah inserted the drive into the presentation laptop.
The screen changed.
A photograph appeared.
It showed Audrey at twenty-nine in a tiny unfinished restaurant kitchen. Flour streaked her cheek. Her hair was tied back. Brett stood beside her holding a paint roller.
Underneath were the words:
HOLLOWAY HOUSE — DAY ONE
Another image appeared.
Audrey baking bread at 3:14 a.m.
Another.
Audrey negotiating with a produce supplier.
Another.
Audrey serving tables while visibly pregnant.
Another.
Audrey asleep beside invoices with newborn Micah against her chest.
Then scanned documents appeared.
Recipes.
Menu drafts.
Vendor agreements.
Handwritten budgets.
Every page bore Audrey’s name.
The room grew quieter.
Micah spoke.
“My history teacher says when you make a presentation, you should use primary sources.”
Someone laughed nervously.
Brett did not.
“Turn it off.”
Micah clicked again.
The company’s original incorporation paperwork filled the screen.
Audrey stared.
She had not seen it in years.
Micah enlarged one paragraph.
“My mom created the recipes. My mom designed the first three restaurants. My mom borrowed money from Great-Grandma Opal to open the first one.”
Audrey felt something shift inside her.
Not heartbreak.
Recognition.
For years Brett had retold their beginning until Audrey herself sometimes wondered whether she remembered it incorrectly.
Micah had found the evidence.
Then came the final slide.
A bank record.
INITIAL CAPITAL CONTRIBUTION: OPAL FINCH — $380,000
Audrey’s lips parted.
That was wrong.
Opal had loaned them eighty thousand dollars.
Not three hundred eighty.
She turned toward Brett.
He had gone pale.
Micah looked at the screen too.
He clearly had not understood the significance.
But someone else had.
A silver-haired man at the investors’ table stood.
Arthur Bell.
The attorney who had handled Opal’s estate.
“Where did you get that document?”
Micah pointed toward Brett.
“Dad’s private folder.”
Brett moved toward the stage.
“That presentation ends now.”
Arthur stepped into his path.
“No.”
One word.
Quiet.
Absolute.
Brett stared at him.
Arthur looked at Audrey.
“Did your grandmother ever tell you what happened to the remaining three hundred thousand dollars?”
“What remaining money?”
Arthur’s expression changed.
Audrey suddenly understood that whatever answer was coming, Brett desperately did not want her to hear it.
“Your grandmother didn’t loan Holloway House eighty thousand dollars, Audrey.”
Arthur turned toward the giant screen.
“She invested three hundred eighty thousand.”
Audrey looked at Brett.
“Where is it?”
Brett said nothing.
Sierra slowly removed her hand from his arm.
Arthur continued.
“And that isn’t the important part.”
Audrey’s pulse hammered.
“What is?”
Arthur looked directly at her.
“Opal didn’t invest in Brett’s company.”
May you like
He paused.
“She created yours.”
