A month earlier, an insurance inventory had listed twenty-three pieces in an off-site warehouse owned by one of Franklin Voss’s companies.
Some photographs on the program appeared to show those same pieces.
Franklin insisted the warehouse had acquired the material lawfully from a defunct theatrical company.
“Then show us the bill of sale,” Nora answered.
He promised to review the paperwork the following week.
Samuel looked toward the empty chair at the center of the stage.
It had been reserved for the foundation’s founder, a distinction the program credited to Victoria’s late father.
“Her father helped fund the rebuild after the fire,” Samuel said.
“He also promised my wife the public memorial would never be hidden.”
Victoria said the old promises were impractical in a modern restaurant and might create liability.
Samuel asked why liability had been absent from the marketing materials that praised the property’s authentic history.
Adrian approached Nora and handed her an envelope from the restaurant office.
It contained a check for Emily’s final wages and a letter stating she had resigned voluntarily.
Emily read the letter once and handed it back unsigned.
“I didn’t resign,” she said.
Adrian claimed the distinction was administrative and would be corrected later.
Tessa stepped forward from the kitchen door.
“I heard you fire her,” she said.
The pastry chef, Malik, confirmed the same thing from the hallway.
Adrian stared at the staff as though their willingness to speak was more offensive than his original decision.
Nora wrote their names in a notebook but warned Emily that she was not representing her in an employment claim.
“I can give you the contact information for an independent employment attorney,” she said.
Emily thanked her.
She had seen too many powerful people offer help that quietly turned into a demand for loyalty.
This time, she wanted every agreement put in writing.
Chapter 7: The House on Delancey Street
Emily and Ben lived above a small pharmacy on Delancey Street, in an apartment with slanted floors and windows that rattled during storms.
Ben was nineteen and attended community college while working three evenings a week at a print shop.
He had watched their mother’s illness consume their savings and did not trust promises that arrived without explanations.
Emily reached home shortly after midnight to find him sorting invoices at the kitchen table.
He noticed her damp hair and the absence of her work shoes before she spoke.
“Did something happen at the restaurant?” he asked.
