Six months later…

“It doesn’t taste right,” I said. “Do it again.”

The chef gave me a look that I swore rivaled Satan himself. I didn’t blame him. We’d been working on this dish for a month straight.

I wanted it to be right for the grand opening. The restaurant I opened on Park and Grand was my own. It had no ties to the mafia, only ties to Fletcher Hines.

The last two months after my father finally accepted my resignation and allowed me to let this ...