Daniel was no longer interested in the menu.
He was interested in restoring what he considered the natural order of the table.
"Apologize," he demanded.
Emily did not move.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Apologize to Mr. Blackwood."
Emily looked at Richard.
"Sir, if my response offended you, I understand that you may disagree with it. But I won't apologize for believing that people deserve basic respect."
Daniel struck the table with his palm.
The silverware rattled.
A nearby diner turned fully in her chair.
"That's enough!" Daniel shouted.
"Daniel."
Richard's voice was low.
Daniel barely acknowledged it.
"People like her think they can say anything because they're protected by some ridiculous workplace policy."
"Daniel."
"Someone needs to teach her—"
Richard's cane struck the floor.
THUD.
The sound cut through the immediate silence.
"Sit down. Now."
Daniel stopped speaking.
Richard did not raise his voice. He did not need to.
His eyes were cold, his jaw set, and both hands rested firmly on the silver handle of his cane.
Daniel looked as though he had suddenly remembered where he was.
He lowered himself into his chair.
"Yes, sir," he muttered.
Richard waited until Daniel had settled.
Then he turned back to Emily.
"Have you been working here long?"
Emily looked at him cautiously.
"Almost a year."
"And before that?"
"I worked at a smaller restaurant while I was studying."
"Studying what?"
Emily hesitated.
"Architecture."
"Studying?"
"I had to take a break."
Richard noticed the way she avoided explaining further.
"Why?"
"Family responsibilities."
He studied her face.
"What kind of responsibilities?"
Emily's expression tightened.
"Personal ones, sir."
For the first time, Richard seemed to recognize that he had asked a question he had no right to demand an answer to.
He gave a small nod.
"Very well."
Daniel shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.
"Richard, I think we should ask for another server."
Richard looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because she's clearly disrespectful."
Richard's expression hardened.
"No. You want another server because this one refused to let you intimidate her."
Daniel stared at him.
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?"
Richard gestured toward Emily.
"She brought us a menu. She offered us drinks. She has not made a single mistake in serving us. Yet both of us have spent the past several minutes criticizing her."
Daniel opened his mouth.
Richard raised a hand.
"Do not interrupt me."
Daniel fell silent again.
Richard's attention returned to Emily.
"What is your full name?"
"Emily Carter."
The name was ordinary.
Millions of people shared it.
But something about the combination disturbed him.
He repeated it slowly.
"Carter?"
"Yes, sir."
Richard's fingers tightened around his cane.
"Your father's name wouldn't happen to be Thomas, would it?"
Emily's face changed.
For the first time since arriving at the table, she looked genuinely surprised.
"Yes."
Richard leaned forward.
"Thomas Carter?"
Emily nodded slowly.
"Yes. Did you know him?"
The old man's expression shifted.
The arrogance disappeared, replaced by a look Emily could not immediately interpret.
He seemed to have forgotten Daniel, the restaurant, and the audience of diners pretending not to watch.
For several seconds, Richard Blackwood said nothing.
Then he asked a question that made Emily's stomach tighten.
"Did your father ever tell you about me?"
Chapter 5: The Name From the Past
Emily looked at the old man carefully.
"Yes," she said.
Richard swallowed.
"What did he tell you?"
"That he once worked with a businessman who had a lot of ambition."
Richard waited.
"He said the man had a good idea and very little money. My father helped him understand the engineering side of the business and introduced him to someone who could manufacture the equipment he needed."
Richard's eyes lowered.
"That sounds like Thomas."
"He said the businessman eventually became very successful."
Emily paused.
"He also said success can make people forget where they started."
Daniel looked increasingly confused.
Richard hardly noticed.
"Did he tell you the man's name?"
Emily looked at him.
"Richard Blackwood."
The old man leaned back.
For a moment, his face seemed older than it had a few minutes earlier.
He looked down at the leather menu folder.
The insult he had delivered so casually now seemed to echo through his mind.
A worthless little sparrow.
He had said those words to the daughter of the man who had once given him a chance when the world had turned its back on him.
But the shame was not simply that he had insulted Thomas Carter's daughter.
The shame was that he had insulted her at all.
If Emily had been the daughter of a billionaire, his behavior would have been just as wrong. If she had been an immigrant with no family nearby, a student working her first job, or an employee struggling to pay rent, she would have deserved the same respect.
Richard understood that distinction in theory.
He had simply failed to live by it.
"Your father helped me build my first company," he said quietly.
Emily nodded.
"I know."
"I should have stayed in touch."
She said nothing.
Richard looked toward the window, where the city lights stretched into the distance.
"Thomas was the kind of man who never made you feel foolish for asking a question. He could disagree with you without making you feel small. He told the truth even when it was inconvenient."
He paused.
"I was not always grateful for that."
Emily's voice softened slightly.
"He spoke well of you when I was young."
Richard looked back at her.
"He did?"
"Yes. He said you were determined. He thought you had the potential to do something important."
The words seemed to hurt more than an accusation.
Richard remembered his younger self, impatient and insecure, desperate to prove that he could become someone important.
Thomas had believed in him.
And Richard had repaid that belief with years of silence.
"Do you know why we stopped seeing each other?" Richard asked.
Emily shook her head.
"My father never explained the whole story."
Richard rubbed his thumb along the cane's silver handle.
"Then perhaps it's time I told you."