Martha’s smirk faltered, an uneasy chill suddenly running down her spine. "Who do you think you’re calling? Get off the phone and get out of my store!"
Henry lowered the phone, placing it face-up on the table beside his plate. He looked directly into Martha’s eyes with a gaze as cold as iron.
"My name is Henry Vance," the old man said with quiet intensity. "Chairman of the Vance Commercial Trust. The foundation that owns this entire commercial district—including the master property lease on this very building."
Martha turned stark white. Her breath hitched, and she gripped her cardigan as her knees went weak. "M-Mr. Vance? The developer?"
For months, the local business community had been buzzing with reports that the reclusive billionaire was seeking an honorable successor to run his community development initiatives. What no one knew was that Henry had spent the last two weeks walking the streets in worn clothes, quietly observing who in the neighborhood possessed real empathy.
Henry stood up, his towering frame commanding the entire café.
"My late wife and I started this trust to build communities that support one another," Henry said coldly to Martha. "Your lease is up for renewal at the end of this month. It will not be extended. You have thirty days to vacate this premises."