“A threat said in anger proves nothing happened to him.”
Khloe looked up.
“No.
It proves you lied about barely knowing him.”
Silas still held the recorder.
“And the accounts?” he asked.
Beatrice’s eyes flashed.
“You think numbers and an old argument explain everything?”
“I think they explain why you’re terrified.”
“I am not terrified of a waitress.”
Khloe glanced at the broken wine bottle on the floor.
“No.
You were comfortable when I was a waitress.”
That landed harder than shouting could have.
Beatrice turned toward Silas.
“You would take her word against your own mother?”
Silas’s expression tightened.
Khloe expected him to answer immediately.
He didn’t.
And strangely, she respected him more for that.
He looked at the evidence again.
“I don’t have to take anyone’s word.”
He lifted the copied ledgers.
“These can be verified.”
Beatrice’s face changed.
Silas continued.
“The transfer codes are old Romano codes.
I recognize them.
If these pages match archived accounts, we’ll know.”
“They won’t.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
Beatrice looked toward the doorway.
Nathaniel was still standing there.
Silas followed her gaze.
“Nathaniel.”
The maître d’ nearly jumped.
“Yes, Mr.
Romano?”
“Lock the private office.
Nobody touches tonight’s security recordings.”
Beatrice stared at her son.
“You’re preserving footage of your mother being attacked by an employee?”
Silas looked at the wine soaking Khloe’s blouse and the glass around her feet.
“From where I’m standing, the footage shows something else.”
Nathaniel disappeared toward the office.
Beatrice’s composure finally cracked.
“You foolish boy.”
Silas’s jaw flexed.
“You always said Father died because he underestimated disloyalty.”
“He did.”
“Maybe I misunderstood which disloyalty you meant.”
Beatrice slapped him.
The sound snapped across the restaurant.
Silas did not move.
Neither did Khloe.
Beatrice stared at the red mark forming along her son’s cheek as if she could not believe her own hand had betrayed her.
