The look that said he had won.
Without saying a word, I reached for my wallet.
Then the waiter leaned beside me.
“Ma’am,” he whispered, “the person you asked me to call has arrived.”
Dad’s smile vanished.
I closed my purse.
“Perfect.”
Vanessa frowned. “Who did you call?”
Before I could answer, the private dining room door opened.
A silver-haired man in a charcoal suit entered carrying a leather folder.
Dad stared at him.
Then slowly pushed his chair back.
He stepped into the aisle and stood.
His face had gone pale.
“You,” he whispered.
The man looked directly at him.
“Good evening, Richard.”
Vanessa glanced between them.
“Dad?”
I finally smiled.
Because my father recognized Martin Graves.
He should have.
Martin had spent the last six months investigating him.
And the bill on the table was about to become the cheapest mistake my family made that night.
“What is he doing here?” Dad demanded.
Martin Graves was a forensic attorney specializing in corporate fraud.
Vanessa blinked. “You know him?”
Dad ignored her.
He stared at me.
“What did you do?”
I calmly folded the restaurant bill and placed it beside my plate.
“Nothing you didn’t make necessary.”
Vanessa laughed nervously.
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