Chapter 3 - The Billion-Dollar Withdrawal
Our manager, Martin, hurried out of the kitchen with a stack of clean cloth napkins, his face pale with terror. “Mr. Bennett! Mrs. Bennett! I am so sorry! If I had known—!”
“Quiet, Martin,” Daniel commanded without looking at him. “You asked my wife to go into the kitchen and change so these people wouldn't feel uncomfortable. You prioritized their money over your employee’s dignity. We will address your management style with the restaurant group’s board tomorrow morning.”
Martin looked like he was going to throw up. He bowed his head and backed away into the shadows.
Thomas Caldwell fell to his knees beside Table 14, looking up at Daniel with tears forming in his eyes. “Daniel, please! Mercer Urban and Caldwell Capital have invested eighty million dollars of our own capital into the waterfront project! If you pull Bennett Global’s funding, our firms will be bankrupt by Monday morning! We’ll lose everything!”
Richard Mercer grabbed his daughter’s arm, yanking her out of her chair with enough force to shock her out of her trance. “Apologize to her, Sloane! Get on your knees and apologize to Mrs. Bennett right now!”
Sloane burst into hysterical tears, her mascara running down her cheeks. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Mrs. Bennett! I didn't know! Please don't ruin my father!”
I looked at Sloane. There was no genuine remorse in her eyes—only the blind, panic-stricken terror of a bully who had finally hit a wall she couldn't bribe her way through.
“You’re not sorry you did it, Sloane,” I said softly, looking her dead in the eye. “You’re just sorry you did it to someone who could fight back.”
Daniel pulled his phone from his coat pocket and speed-dialed his chief legal counsel, Victoria Vance. He put the call on speaker.
“Victoria,” Daniel said into the phone.
“Yes, Daniel?” Victoria’s crisp, authoritative voice answered immediately.
“Terminate all negotiations with Mercer Urban and Caldwell Capital regarding the waterfront redevelopment project,” Daniel ordered smoothly. “Issue a public press release at eight o'clock tomorrow morning stating that Bennett Global has withdrawn all financial backing due to ethical violations and corporate misconduct by their executive leadership.”
“No! God, please, no!” Richard Mercer cried out, clutching his chest.
“Additionally,” Daniel continued, ignoring Mercer’s screams, “file a formal civil lawsuit against Sloane Mercer and Evan Caldwell for harassment, defamation, and intentional infliction of emotional distress. Request the maximum statutory damages, and instruct our media team to preserve every second of Ms. Mercer’s livestream as primary evidence.”
“Understood,” Victoria replied. “The termination papers and litigation notices will be served within the hour.”
Daniel ended the call and placed his phone back in his pocket.
He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close to his side. He looked down at Richard Mercer and Thomas Caldwell, who looked as if they had aged twenty years in twenty seconds.
“Our business is concluded gentlemen,” Daniel said. “You have ten minutes to clear your things out of this restaurant before my security team has you removed for trespassing.”
Daniel turned to me, his eyes instantly softening into pure warmth and devotion. “Let’s go home, Grace. I’ll run a hot bath for you.”
I looked back one last time at Table 14.
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Sloane was staring at her phone screen in horror. The livestream chat had gone entirely rogue. Clips of her pouring Coke on me had already been reposted across TikTok, Twitter, and Instagram, trending globally under the hashtag #SloaneMercer and #GraceBennett. Millions of people were currently watching her empire crumble in real time.
I took my husband’s hand, walked past the silent patrons of Harbor House, and walked out into the cool night air.
