One struck the stone hard enough to scratch the blade.
Then another luxury sedan pulled up.
Arthur Pendelton stepped out.
Brian knew him immediately.
Pendelton was a senior executive at the corporate dining group responsible for several of The Hearth’s most important contracts.
Brian’s face changed.
“Mr. Pendelton.”
Pendelton looked down at the knife lying on the ground.
“Tell me you did not just kick one of Thomas Reyes’s handmade blades.”
Brian’s arrogance faltered.
“It was an accident. It’s just metal.”
Harrison stared at him.
“Just metal?”
Brian made things worse.
“My former father-in-law makes overpriced tools. They’re not worth half of what he charges.”
A text from Samuel appeared beneath the video.
He just insulted your father in front of Harrison and Pendelton. He still has no idea who they are to you.
The elevator doors opened.
I looked up.
More than a hundred people waited inside the Grand Plaza ballroom.
A massive screen stood behind the stage.
Across it were the words:
SAMANTHA REYES
CULINARY DIRECTOR & PROJECT PARTNER
For ten years, I had walked behind Brian.
That morning, my name was the largest thing in the room.
The announcer stepped to the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Samantha Reyes.”
Applause filled the ballroom.
Franklin Cooper, the lead owner behind the hotel project, joined me onstage.
“Samantha created the culinary direction for this property,” he told the audience. “She developed our sourcing strategy, assembled relationships with regional farms, and played a central role in the project’s growth.”
Food critics were there.
Investors.
Chefs.
Restaurant executives.
Many of them had known my work long before Brian convinced himself it didn’t matter.
While I spoke, my phone vibrated repeatedly.
Brian.
Eventually, I answered.
His voice had changed completely.
“Samantha, call Pendelton.”
“Why?”
“He’s canceling our supply contracts.”
“That sounds like something you should discuss with him.”
“Harrison is furious too. I didn’t know who he was!”
And that was the problem.
