Page 170 of His Reckoning

She nods.

“Forties,” I say. “Maybe mid-forties back then.”

I take another sip of whiskey. The burn is welcome. It keeps the memories from rushing too fast.

“Dad handled most of the business side. Tony ran the kitchen.”

Kayla shifts slightly toward me. “And you were helping there?”

“Yeah.” A humorless smile pulls at my mouth. “I liked figuring things out. Systems. Numbers. Efficiency.”

That part was always easy.

“By fifteen, I’d already started writing little programs to track inventory. Labor costs. Supplier orders.”

Kayla blinks. “You were doing that at fifteen?”

I shrug. “Bored kid with a computer.”

Her lips curve slightly despite the heaviness of the conversation. “So, what happened?”

I stare at the whiskey in my glass. “At first, he thought it was useful.”

I can still see the kitchen in my head. The stainless-steel counters, smell of garlic and tomatoes, and the constant noise.

“He’d keep me late after school to help him run reports. Figure out what dishes were actually profitable.”

Kayla leans forward slightly. “That doesn’t sound bad.”

“It wasn’t.”

At first.

I take another slow breath.

“But eventually, I started telling him things he didn’t want to hear.”

Her brow furrows. “Like what?”

“That the restaurant could grow.”

I glance at her. “More locations. Better systems. Digital ordering.”

Kayla nods slowly. “Normal business ideas.”

“Not to Tony.”

The memory still hits like a punch.

“To him, the restaurant wasn’t a business.”

“What was it?”

“Control.” The word sits heavy between us. “He thought I was trying to take it from him.”

Kayla’s voice softens. “You were fifteen.”

“Didn’t matter.” I run a hand through my hair. “The first time it happened, we were alone in the walk-in freezer.”