“What legacy were you protecting? This house is buried under debt.
The company is nearly insolvent.
You sacrificed me for an image that doesn’t even exist anymore.”
Julian shut the folder.
“That brings us to today.”
He looked directly at my father.
“For months, Thomas has been asking Mercer Holdings to invest fifty million dollars into Bennett Development Group.
He calls it a partnership.”
Julian paused.
“It isn’t.
It’s a bailout.”
My father sank into a chair.
“Please, Julian.
Whatever happened years ago has nothing to do with the company.
We can fix this.
I’ll remove Ryan.
I’ll accept any reasonable conditions.
Just don’t walk away.”
Julian placed a thick contract in front of him.
“I brought an acquisition agreement.”
Thomas immediately looked up.
“The terms are severe,” Julian continued.
“The buyer assumes the company’s debt and takes ninety percent ownership.
Existing family board members lose their seats. You receive enough cash to pay off the mortgage on this house and live comfortably if you stop spending like billionaires.”
My father barely paused.
“I’ll sign.”
Julian smiled.
“There is something you should know first.”
He rested a hand on my shoulder.
“Natalie was right about one thing.
Claire isn’t simply a waitress.”
Everyone looked at me.
Julian’s expression softened.
“Tell them.”
My father frowned.
“What is he talking about?”
I folded my hands on the table.
“Yes, Dad.
I worked at the Elm Street Diner.”
I looked toward Ryan.
“And I did bookkeeping for a small repair shop.”
Natalie smirked.
“Exactly.”
“But those were only my daytime jobs.”
Her smirk vanished.
“For years, I worked remotely at night.”
Three years earlier, I had realized waiting tables would never buy the independence I wanted.
So I studied accounting, financial modeling, statistics, and coding whenever I had time.
Eventually, I built a freelance identity.
C.B.
Analytics.
