Chapter 6 - The Bitter Harvest
The screen showed chaotic live footage of ambulances lined up outside Marlowe House, their flashing red lights reflecting off the iconic gold lettering of the restaurant’s entrance. Wealthy patrons in evening wear were being escorted out by paramedics, their faces twisted in pain.
Felix’s phone exploded with notifications.
“Marco, what happened?” Felix demanded, setting the call to speaker.
“Celeste tried to rush the production of your father’s signature walnut-honey glaze for the preview dinner,” Marco explained rapidly over the line. “She didn't use the certified suppliers from your old roster, Felix. She used a cheap, bulk chemical distributor owned by her brother’s holding company to maximize her profit margins before the merger. The stabilizing agent they used contained industrial-grade sulfites. It’s the exact same chemical compound that nearly killed Lily three days ago.”
Sarah let out a sharp gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. “The critics… the investors… if any of them have a respiratory sensitivity—”
“They do,” Marco said grimly. “Three of the lead investors from the European conglomerate are currently in intensive care. The health department has officially sealed the restaurant, and the police are preparing to issue arrest warrants for corporate negligence. Celeste is currently locked in her penthouse, trying to transfer her personal assets to an offshore account in the Caymans before the asset freeze hits.”
Felix looked at Sarah. The irony was absolute, brutal, and terrifying. The very weapon Celeste had used against a innocent six-year-old child had returned to destroy her own ambitions within seventy-two hours. Her greed had outpaced her execution, and the result was a catastrophic collapse of the entire Kingsley empire.
“My mother,” Felix said. “Where is she?”
“She’s at the main office, completely isolated,” Marco replied. “The board members are turning on her to save their own skin. They are calling an emergency session for tomorrow morning to reinstate you, Felix. They know you’re the only one who can handle the culinary community and save the brand from total liquidation.”
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Felix looked down at the stacks of legal papers on the table. He looked at the small kitchen where Sarah’s authentic, clean glaze sat cooling in the pot. The corporate crown was being offered back to him on a silver platter, but it was covered in the blood of his family’s ambition.
“Tell them I’ll come to the meeting,” Felix said slowly. “But I’m not coming alone. And I’m not coming back as a Kingsley.”
