The lawyer didn’t just hand Noah a check. He handed him a sleek, black tablet.
On the screen was a live security feed of Rosie’s Diner. The manager, Marcus, was smugly counting the morning register.
“Mr. Bennett isn’t just a billionaire,” the lawyer said, his voice ice-cold. “He’s a hunter. And yesterday was a trap.”
Noah watched the screen as the diner doors swung open. In walked the old man from the rain. But the soaked rags were gone, replaced by a razor-sharp bespoke suit. Behind him marched the exact same four “customers” who had held up their smartphones to film Noah getting fired yesterday.
They weren’t random customers. They were Arthur Bennett’s board of directors.
Marcus dropped a stack of twenties, his face draining of blood. Even without audio, Noah could see Arthur’s brutal, commanding posture as he pointed a single finger at the door. Marcus was fired on the spot, his career incinerated in seconds as security dragged him out.
“Justice,” Noah whispered, attempting to hand the tablet back. “So, do I get my barista job back?”
The lawyer chuckled—a dry, humorless sound. “You’re not going back to the espresso machine, Noah. Mr. Bennett’s empire spans five hundred restaurants, and it’s infected with greedy, heartless managers like Marcus who are destroying the brand from the inside.”
The lawyer opened the SUV’s rear door, revealing a tailored suit waiting on the dark leather seat.
“Arthur is retiring,” the lawyer stated flatly. “He doesn’t need another corporate shark to inherit his legacy. He needs someone who disobeys orders to do what’s right.”
Noah stared at the suit, his pulse pounding against his ribs.
“Get in, Mr. Carter,” the lawyer said, a razor-thin smile creeping onto his face. “You don’t just work for the company anymore. You own it.”