Chapter 12 - THE RESTAURANT WITH MY FATHER'S NAME
Two years after the trial, I opened a small restaurant in Chicago.
It wasn't fancy.
No chandeliers.
No private rooms filled with billionaires.
Just warm lighting.
Good food.
And a kitchen where everyone was treated with respect.
I named it Daniel's Table.
After my father.
Roman offered to invest.
I declined.
He smiled.
"Of course you did."
I laughed.
Instead, I used a business loan, savings, and a small inheritance recovered through the legal settlement.
The restaurant became a neighborhood favorite.
We served comfort food.
Fresh bread.
And Dad's favorite meatloaf on Thursdays.
One evening, Roman came in wearing a simple sweater.
He sat at the counter.
"Table for one?" I asked.
He smiled.
"Depends."
"On what?"
"Whether the owner will join me."
I laughed.
"She's busy."
He leaned closer.
"Then I'll wait."
May you like
And he did.
For the first time in my life, I had built something that belonged entirely to me.
