Chapter 17 - THE LAST WEXLER DINNER
Brenda called a family meeting that night.
She demanded every Wexler relative attend.
I was not invited.
I went anyway.
Not alone.
Maya came.
Northstar’s restructuring attorney came.
Two independent directors came.
Patricia came with us.
When we entered the Wexler dining room, the same room where the filthy towel had hit my face five days earlier, conversation died.
The stain from the vegetable oil was still faintly visible beside the buffet.
Nobody had cleaned it properly.
I almost smiled at the irony.
Brenda stood at the head of the table.
“You have no right to be here.”
I looked around.
“This property is pledged as collateral to an entity represented by the people standing beside me.”
Her expression hardened.
“You enjoy this.”
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I enjoyed my wedding.”
“I enjoyed believing your son loved me.”
“This part is paperwork.”
Derek stood near the window.
He looked exhausted.
Brenda turned toward the family.
“This woman is taking everything your grandfather built.”
Patricia answered.
“No.”
“You did that.”
Brenda glared at her.
Patricia placed copies of expense records on the table.
“You treated the company like a private bank.”
Other relatives began speaking.
Quietly at first.
Then louder.
One cousin asked why his restaurant division had lost funding while Brenda remodeled her house.
Another demanded to know about the Delaware company.
A third asked about Lauren.
Brenda lost control of the room in less than five minutes.
Then she made her final mistake.
She blamed Derek.
“He approved the transfers.”
Derek stared at his mother.
“You told me they were temporary.”
“You’re the CEO.”
“You controlled the accounts.”
“You signed.”
“You told me to!”
The perfect family finally began devouring itself.
I watched in silence.
Then Brenda pointed at me.
“This is what she wanted.”
“No.”
I stepped forward.
“This is what truth looks like when everyone stops being afraid of you.”
Her face twisted.
She walked toward me.
For one second, I thought she might strike me.
Instead, she whispered.
“You were nothing before that inheritance.”
I smiled.
“Then why were you so desperate to control me?”
She froze.
Behind her, the front door opened.
Three people entered.
A court-appointed preservation officer.
A forensic accounting representative.
And an attorney carrying the emergency restructuring order.
Derek closed his eyes.
Brenda looked around as though expecting someone to rescue her.
Nobody moved.
The attorney spoke calmly.
“Effective immediately, Brenda Wexler and Derek Wexler are prohibited from exercising management authority over Wexler Hospitality assets pending further proceedings.”
The room erupted.
Brenda screamed.
Derek remained silent.
Then the preservation officer requested access to the basement archive.
Brenda’s face changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
I noticed.
So did Maya.
“What’s still down there?” I asked.
Brenda said nothing.
The officer repeated the request.
Finally, Derek walked toward the basement door.
“I know the code.”
Brenda grabbed his arm.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Why?”
She tightened her grip.
“Because some things belong to family.”
May you like
Derek slowly removed her hand.
“Not anymore.”
