The hostess looked at my daughter’s faded sneakers, then at my worn jacket, and smiled like she had already decided what kind of people we were. “

"David... wait," Marcus stammered, his voice trembling as he pushed his chair back. "We can talk about this! It's a misunderstanding! It was a tax strategy!"

"A tax strategy?" I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "You stole from a widowed father who trusted you to protect his business so he could raise his daughter."

I looked at the other three managers. "Steve. Rachel. Alan. Did any of you know about Marcus's shell companies?"

Rachel and Alan immediately shook their heads frantically, terrified. "No! Sir, we had no idea! Marcus handled all vendor approvals!"

Steve, however, lowered his head, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Steve," I said quietly. "You took a twenty-thousand-dollar kickback last month to approve the fake inventory invoices at location two, didn't you?"

Steve buried his face in his hands and began to cry. "He threatened to fire me if I didn't sign off, Mr. Bennett! I have three kids!"

"You should have called me," I said coldly. "Rachel, Alan—you two are keeping your jobs. Steve—you're fired. Get out."

Steve stood up silently, grabbed his coat, and walked out of the restaurant with his head hanging low.

Now it was just me, Marcus, and the mountain of evidence between us.

Marcus suddenly grabbed his leather briefcase, his eyes wild with desperation. "You think you've won, David? You don't have the stomach for court! You're a soft kitchen guy who hides in his house! I'll hire the best defense team in the state! You'll be tied up in litigation for five years!"

He stood up and turned toward the exit, rushing for the glass front doors.

As he reached for the brass handle, the heavy doors opened from the outside.

Two plainclothes investigators from the State Attorney General’s Financial Crimes Division stepped inside, holding federal arrest warrants.

"Marcus Vance?" the lead investigator asked.

Marcus froze, dropping his leather briefcase onto the floor. "Yes?"

"You're under arrest for wire fraud, corporate embezzlement, tax evasion, and grand larceny," the investigator announced, pulling Marcus's arms behind his back and snapping steel handcuffs around his wrists.

Marcus turned his head, looking back at me across the empty dining room with pure, unadulterated terror.