Chapter 2
It was Saturday.
The family was having dinner together.
The place was Grant Gourmet, a private restaurant on the west side of the city.
When I saw the name, I couldn't help but smirk.
The place was Grant Gourmet.
Grant Gourmet was one of my own properties.
Every business that carried the Grant name belonged to me.
My whole family had picked my own restaurant for dinner, and not one of them knew it.
I threw on a plain black shirt, ran my fingers through my hair, and when I walked in, the private room was already packed.
My uncle Edward Grant, my aunt Linda Grant, and my cousin Henry Quinn, who had taken his mother's last name.
Then there was my dad, Charles Grant, my mom, Susan Grant, and my sister, Emily.
A few distant relatives were there too.
As soon as I sat down, my mom started fussing.
"William, you're here," she said, her smile a little awkward. "Come sit by your sister."
I sat down without a fuss.
Linda, my aunt, gave me a once-over, sizing me up from head to toe.
She looked at me like I was something on the clearance rack.
"William, what have you been up to lately?" Linda asked.
Here it came.
It was the standing item at every family dinner, an interrogation into how my life was going.
"I'm alright, still trying to find my path," I said.
Still trying to find my path had been my standard answer for three years.
It was vague enough and harmless enough to keep them off my back.
But Linda wasn't buying it.
"Three years and you're still finding your path?" Linda said, flashing a proud smile at her son. "Henry just got promoted to manager last month, and he's pulling in 170 thousand dollars a year now. They even gave him a company car..."
"Mom, that's enough," Henry cut in, putting on a show of modesty as he took a sip of his coffee.
But the curve of his mouth gave him away.
He was pleased with himself.
He was very pleased with himself.
He turned to me with a grin that carried a quiet sense of superiority. "William, if you ever need a job, I can put in a good word for you. We're still hiring."
"What's the position?" I asked.
"Front desk admin assistant. Pays fifteen hundred a month," Henry said, sounding like he was doing me a huge favor.
After he said that, the room went dead silent for a second.
Then a few of the distant relatives chuckled, almost pitying me.
It was a soft laugh, but it stung.
My mom's face flushed, and she quickly ducked her head, pretending to focus on her food.
My dad, Charles, didn't show any emotion, but I noticed his grip on his fork tighten.
Emily didn't join in the laughter.
She shot me a look, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she held back.
I stayed calm.
A front desk assistant made fifteen hundred a month.
That was interesting.
Henry's company, Grant Realty, had just gotten a 70 million dollar marketing budget approved the month before.
I was the one who signed off on it.
And that 170 thousand dollars a year job he was so proud of had almost been cut the year before.
I was also the one who made sure he kept it.
Of course, he had no clue.
No one did.
"Thanks, Henry. I'll think about it," I said with a smile.
Henry nodded, wearing that big-brother look, like he was tossing me a lifeline.
I picked up my cup and took a sip.
It was a reserve vintage, the kind bottled only in the best years.
It came from our family's own vineyard.
That vineyard belonged to me as well.
Just then, the door to the private room swung open.
The manager of Grant Gourmet stepped in, a bottle of wine in hand.
"Good evening, everyone. This bottle is on the house."
His gaze swept across the table, then suddenly stopped.
His eyes stopped on me.
I caught the shock in his eyes, and his pupils shrank as though he had seen a ghost.
I was done for.
Leo Cole was the manager of Grant Gourmet.
Three months ago, at the annual headquarters meeting, he took the stage to accept an award for the food and beverage department.
I was the one who handed him that award myself.
His mouth dropped open and about to say something.
I shot him a look, and I put everything I had into it.
That glare carried every bit of authority a boss had, and it reminded him exactly who signed his paychecks.
Leo's mouth snapped closed as though someone had welded it.
He gulped, Adam's apple bobbing, then managed a smile so stiff it looked like his face might crack.
"This, uh, this bottle is for everyone. Enjoy your meal," he said, his voice a little shaky.
He set the bottle down and hurried out.
He practically bolted out of there.
He even smacked right into the doorframe as he left.
Nobody else at the table paid it any mind.
Only Emily glanced over again. "What's with that manager? He looked like he just saw a ghost."
"Maybe he's new and just nervous," I said.
I glanced down at my phone.
Leo's message popped up on my screen.
Leo: [Mr. Grant, why are you eating here? Should I set something up for you? Abalone and lobster coming right up!]
Leo was panicking hard enough to type in all caps.
I shot back: [Don't do anything.]
Then I added: [Just act like you don't know me, or you're out of a job tomorrow.]
Leo: [Got it. I'll keep it under wraps, Mr. Grant. You can count on me.]
I flipped my phone over and set it face down on the table.
I couldn't afford a single slip at that dinner.
But nothing that night went the way I had planned.
Henry was at it again.
"Oh, by the way," he said, putting down his fork and looking around the table, "do you ever wonder who owns this place? Grant Gourmet is a nationwide chain, and word is the boss is loaded."
"Really?" Linda leaned in, curious. "Just how rich are we talking?"
"Way richer than my boss, no contest," Henry said with a grin. "Rumor has it, the real big shot behind Grant Realty is this guy. So, the owner of this place might actually be my real boss."
As he said that, his eyes drifted over to me.
I was picking up a piece of braised pork.
My hand stayed steady and didn't twitch.
"Word is, he's pretty young," Henry went on, "but nobody's ever seen him. Total mystery."
Emily chimed in, "What if he's sitting right here at this table?"
Everyone at the table cracked up.
I joined in too.
I laughed harder than anyone else at the table.