Chapter 6 - THE MONEY THAT NEVER REACHED THE RESTAURANTS
The emergency hearing took place Monday morning.
I wore a navy blazer and the same black shoes I'd worn to countless supplier meetings.
Owen sat across the courtroom with Ethan and another attorney.
Camille wasn't there.
Lucas sat behind me.
Not beside me.
We had agreed that whatever happened between our spouses, we would make decisions independently.
That distinction mattered.
I wasn't interested in replacing one complicated relationship with another.
I wanted the truth.
Our attorney presented the ownership agreement, disputed signatures, and evidence that the proposed transaction would transfer valuable intellectual property to a company partly owned by Camille.
The judge granted temporary restrictions preventing the disputed sale from closing while the matter was examined.
It wasn't a victory on the merits.
It was time.
And time was exactly what Owen hadn't wanted me to have.
Outside the courthouse, reporters approached.
Apparently, someone had posted the wedding video.
It had spread through local social media overnight.
A headline described me as The Wife Who Exposed a Wedding Affair.
Another called Owen Milwaukee's Cheating Chef.
I hated both.
My marriage had become entertainment.
My business had become gossip.
And seventy-one employees were waking up wondering whether they still had jobs.
I refused to comment.
That afternoon, I met our general managers.
All three.
I told them the truth without sharing unnecessary personal details.
“There is a dispute involving ownership and financial records,” I said. “Our priority is keeping the restaurants operating, paying everyone on time, and protecting our customers.”
Marcus, our oldest manager, raised his hand.
“Are we closing?”
“No.”
“Are you and Owen getting divorced?”
I took a breath.
“That's personal, Marcus. But whatever happens, you deserve clear information about your jobs.”
He nodded.
Then our head pastry chef, Elena, spoke.
“Rebecca, we've been worried for months.”
I looked at her.
“About what?”
She hesitated.
“Supplier payments.”
My stomach tightened.
“What supplier payments?”
“Some vendors have been calling about overdue balances.”
I frowned.
“I haven't received those notices.”
Elena looked uncomfortable.
“Owen told us not to bother you.”
I felt cold.
That evening, the forensic accountant gave us preliminary findings.
Money had moved from restaurant operating accounts through vendor payments, construction invoices, and related entities.
Some transactions appeared to have legitimate explanations.
Others did not.
And the total questionable amount was considerably larger than Lucas's initial estimate.
“Approximately $1.26 million,” the accountant said.
I stared at him.
“One point two six million?”
“That's the amount requiring further investigation. It isn't necessarily the final loss.”
I nodded mechanically.
There were loans I hadn't known about.
Guarantees that needed verification.
Equipment leases tied to projects that didn't exist.
And payments to Mercer Strategic Advisors.
I thought of Owen telling me he'd built everything for us.
Then I thought of the employees whose paychecks depended on us.
I went home and opened my old nursing license renewal email.
It had been sitting in my inbox for months.
For the first time in years, I imagined a future that didn't involve rescuing Owen Hale.
Then Megan walked into the kitchen.
“Someone's here.”
“Who?”
She looked worried.
“Camille.”
I stood.
“Tell her to leave.”
Megan hesitated.
“Rebecca, she's crying.”
“I don't care.”
“She says Owen is threatening her.”
I stopped.
“What?”
May you like
Megan swallowed.
“She says he told her that if the company falls apart, he's taking everyone down with him.”
