Chapter 2 - David Sterling didn't walk toward Vincent.He stumbled.
There was a difference.
A real one.
A man who had spent years ordering waiters around shouldn't look afraid to cross a dining room.
But David did.
His eyes kept flicking toward the exits.
Vincent sat back down.
“Come here.”
David swallowed.
“Mr. Kane, I can explain.”
“I didn't ask for an explanation.”
David stopped.
Vincent tapped the work log.
“I asked for you.”
David's eyes fell on me.
His expression changed.
For one second, I saw anger.
Then fear covered it.
He forced a smile.
“Rory, what are you doing out here?”
I stepped closer to Vincent.
“He owes my mom money.”
David laughed nervously.
“She misunderstood.”
Vincent turned to him.
“Seventy-seven days?”
“It isn't exactly like that.”
“Five thousand four hundred thirty dollars.”
“Cash flow issue.”
“New Porsche.”
David said nothing.
Vincent tilted his head.
“What did that cost?”
David's mouth opened.
No sound came out.
One of Vincent's men checked something on his phone.
“Eighty-nine thousand.”
Vincent nodded.
“So you had eighty-nine thousand for a car.”
He looked at David.
“But not five thousand for your employee.”
David's face hardened.
“This is a private matter.”
Vincent smiled for the first time.
It was not reassuring.
“Not anymore.”
David glanced at me.
“You brought your daughter here?”
“My mother brought me.”
David's voice sharpened.
“That doesn't make what she did legal.”
Vincent interrupted.
“You don't get to mention legality while holding money stolen from a single mother.”
“Stolen?”
Vincent leaned forward.
“Would you prefer the word withheld?”
David went quiet.
Then one of the guards placed a phone on the table.
“Boss.”
Vincent looked at it.
“Show him.”
The screen displayed several bank transfers.
At first I didn't understand them.
Then I saw Sterling's name.
Money had been moved from the restaurant's payroll account into another company.
Then another.
Then another.
Vincent looked at David.
“What is Sterling Hospitality Holdings?”
David's face went blank.
“You don't know anything about my business.”
“I know enough.”
Vincent tapped the screen.
“Payroll account emptied every Thursday.”
Another tap.
“Employee wages delayed.”
Another.
“Transfers to an offshore consulting firm.”
David's eyes widened.
Vincent didn't look away.
“Thirty-seven thousand two hundred dollars.”
Silence.
David whispered.
“That isn't mine.”
“Then whose is it?”
“I don't know.”
Vincent stood.
David stepped backward.
“You really should.”
A phone rang.
Not Vincent's.
David's.
He looked at the screen.
Then immediately rejected the call.
Vincent noticed.
“Who was that?”
“No one.”
The phone rang again.
David rejected it again.
Vincent nodded toward the guard.
The guard took David's phone.
David protested.
“Hey!”
Vincent took the device and looked at the screen.
There were twelve missed calls from one number.
No name.
Just numbers.
Vincent frowned.
Then he turned the phone around.
“Who is this?”
David didn't answer.
Vincent looked at me.
“Rory, does your mother know anything about this?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Does she know about the other employees?”
“What other employees?”
David suddenly shouted.
“Don't!”
The whole restaurant froze.
Vincent slowly turned.
“Don't what?”
David realized his mistake.
His face went pale.
Vincent stepped closer.
“You just told me there are other unpaid employees.”
David said nothing.
One of the guards opened a second folder.
Inside were names.
Eight.
Nine.
Then twelve.
Twelve employees.
All unpaid.
Some for months.
Vincent looked at the list.
Then at me.
“Your mother isn't the only one.”
My stomach tightened.
But there was something even stranger.
One name had a red mark beside it.
Vincent pointed.
“Who is Claire Monroe?”
David looked terrified.
“I said I don't know.”
Vincent turned the phone over again.
A message had just arrived.
One sentence.
STOP ASKING ABOUT THE LEDGER OR YOUR MOTHER WILL DISAPPEAR.
David stared at the screen.
Vincent read it.
Then looked toward the restaurant doors.
The seven guards immediately moved into position.
I didn't understand why everyone suddenly looked so serious.
Then Vincent crouched beside me.
“Rory.”
“Yes?”
“Where is your mother right now?”
“In the kitchen.”
He stood.
“Get her.”
One guard rushed toward the kitchen.
Then we heard a crash.
A scream.
And Mom's voice.
“RORY!”
Vincent's expression changed instantly.
May you like
He grabbed the work log.
And ran.
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