“Mom, don’t cry,” Micah whispered, his twelve-year-old fingers tightening around mine. “Watch me handle them.”

The silence in the boardroom was absolute.

Sierra looked around the table, her eyes darting desperately from one board member to another, searching for an ally. But every single investor was looking away, avoiding her eyes, their faces hardened with disgust and fear of legal exposure.

"Dr. Gable... please," Sierra tried, her voice cracking. "You know how hard Brett and I worked on the national marketing campaign—"

"Shut up, Sierra," Dr. Gable spat, throwing his pen down onto the table. "You used our investment money as your personal slush fund! I voted for Brett because I trusted Audrey’s food. Without her, this company is just an empty shell with a massive debt load!"

Dr. Gable turned to the rest of the board. "I move to strip Brett Holloway of his CEO title immediately and appoint Audrey Finch as interim receiver."

"Second!" three other board members called out simultaneously.

"All in favor?" Dr. Gable asked.

Every hand at the table went up instantly—except Brett’s and Sierra’s.

"Motion carried," Dr. Gable declared.

My litigator, Sarah Jenkins, stepped toward the two court bailiffs waiting near the door. "Gentlemen, please escort Mr. Holloway and Miss Vaughn off the premises. They are barred from entering any Holloway House property pending the full criminal investigation."

Brett slowly pushed himself up from his chair. He looked broken, his shoulders slouched, the air completely drained out of his lungs. He looked at me, his lips trembling slightly as if he wanted to apologize, to explain, to plead for mercy.

"Audrey..." he choked out, taking a tiny step toward me. "Please... we can talk about this at home. We have twelve years together. We have Micah—"

"Do not speak my son's name, Brett," I said, my voice as cold and sharp as a butcher's knife. "You traded your family for a red dress and a stolen pin. You don't have a home anymore. I changed the locks on the townhouse at noon."

Sierra grabbed her designer handbag from the table, her face flushed with rage and humiliation. "This isn't over, Audrey! You think you can run seven restaurants by yourself? You'll be bankrupt in six months!"

"I won't be by myself, Miss Vaughn," I replied, glancing back at Arthur Hudson, who offered me a warm, approving nod. "I have ten million dollars in new capital, the best culinary team in Chicago, and my grandmother's real recipes. You have a criminal defense lawyer. I suggest you go find him."

The bailiffs took Brett and Sierra by their elbows, guiding them firmly out of the boardroom and down the carpeted hallway toward the service elevators.

As the heavy oak doors closed behind them, the entire boardroom let out a collective breath.

Dr. Gable stood up, walking around the table to shake my hand firmly. "What's our first step, Audrey?"