Dad

"Rose, don't yell at the guests. Sir, I'm the owner of this restaurant. I heard you wanted something?" My voice was calm but firm as I addressed both my father and Rose. Despite the tension in the room, I made a conscious effort to maintain a sense of control and professionalism. My father's expression softened slightly as he registered my words, his surprise evident in the way his mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Rose, on the other hand, seemed taken aback by my revelation, her defiance giving way to uncertainty.

After a moment of silence, my father finally spoke, his tone subdued as he addressed me directly. "I... I didn't realize... I mean, I wasn't expecting..." He trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

I resisted the urge to interrupt, allowing him to gather his thoughts before speaking again. It was important to give him the opportunity to respond, even if his presence here was unwelcome.

My father's sudden approach caught me off guard, his movements swift and determined. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and recognition.

Instinctively, I recoiled slightly as he reached for my sunglasses, his outstretched hand coming dangerously close to my face. Without thinking, I reacted, swatting his hand away with more force than I had intended. The action was instinctive, fueled by a combination of fear and frustration at being cornered in such a vulnerable position.

My father seemed taken aback by my reaction, his eyes widening in surprise at the defiance in my gesture. It was a bold move, one that I never would have dared to make in the past.

"You...you're Alex?" Dad gasped.

"You must be mistaken sir, my name is Maxima," I fluently used the name Travis gave me on the night we got back at Emily for a hit and run.

"You're alive?" The weight of my father's words hung heavily in the air, each syllable laden with a mix of disbelief and desperation. His eyes bore into mine, searching for some trace of recognition, some flicker of acknowledgment that I was indeed his long-lost child.

"Sir, I don't know who Alex is," I said firmly. He probably thought that I was a pile of ashes that couldn't embarrass him anymore. "I can see you miss him but it's not me."

"It's not?" My father's confusion was palpable, his brow furrowed in frustration as he grappled with the notion that his own flesh and blood could stand before him, unrecognizable and seemingly indifferent to his presence.

"Sir, if you're unsatisfied with the food, feel free to request something else. We'll comp this first selection you made," I offered.

"Have you really forgotten your father?" Dad asked.

"Sir, I really don't understand what you mean," I smiled behind the mask. I could sense the tension building in the room, the air thick with unspoken truths and unresolved emotions. My heart raced as I awaited his response, unsure of how he would react to my denial of our familial bond. "I'm not born from money and my name isn't Alex. I just own this place!"

The tension in the room was palpable as my dad's eyes darted around, his mind undoubtedly racing with calculations and schemes. It was clear he saw this encounter as an opportunity to regain control over whatever he thought belonged to me. But I wasn't about to let him dictate my life or my business.

"Why keep up the act? You've never spoken to me like this! Since you're alive, you should've shown up or visited after prison!" Dad yelled in my face.

My father's accusatory tone echoed through the room, each word hitting me like a verbal slap. I held my ground, refusing to let his anger shake me. "Again, I'm not your kid, sir," I retorted firmly, drawing on Lollipop's fabricated backstory. Despite the weight of my deception, I maintained a facade of composure, refusing to break character.

His smile, so smug and self-assured, grated on my nerves. How could he be so blind to the truth? "I understand," he said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "You must've thought you've messed up too badly to return home. You must've been suffering all on your own! I won't blame you for that mistake anymore."

As my father stood before me, his words rang hollow, a stark reminder of the abandonment and betrayal I had endured. Did he conveniently forget how he disowned me, casting me aside without a second thought? Did he conveniently overlook the pain and suffering he caused, leaving me to face the harsh realities of the world alone?

I couldn't help but feel a surge of bitterness rise within me, threatening to spill over. How could he now, after all this time, extend a hollow forgiveness as if it could erase the years of neglect and abandonment? The injustice of it all gnawed at me, fueling a firestorm of emotions that threatened to consume me whole.

I could almost see the gears turning in his mind, grappling with the possibility of whether the figure before him was truly his estranged child or merely a mirage of the past.

My dad stared at me intently, his gaze piercing through the mask I wore, as if trying to uncover the truth buried beneath the facade. "Sir, I'm not your son, I'm not even from this town. If you're having hallucinations, you should get that checked at a hospital. Why cause trouble here?" I replied firmly, my voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

His face flushed with frustration, my dad struggled to regain his composure. "Where are you from?" he demanded, his voice tinged with a note of desperation.

"I'm from Wyoming, sir," I asserted, choosing a random location in a feeble attempt to maintain my fabricated identity. The lie rolled off my tongue effortlessly, masking the uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. After all, I've never met anyone from Wyoming and I wasn't completely sure it existed.

"You're the first person I've met from there," My dad's expression softened, a shadow of disappointment clouding his features. "Then I was mistaken. I'll just leave," he muttered quietly, his resolve faltering in the face of my steadfast denial.

My dad stood up, his assistant dutifully assisting him with his jacket as they prepared to leave. However, their path was obstructed by my firm stance in front of them. "You came, abused my staff, acted ridiculously, and even demanded to see the owner. Now you won't even pay for the meal or tip the waitress that put up with you?" I challenged, my voice edged with a mixture of indignation and disbelief.

My dad tossed a wad of money onto the table, the bills cascading in a careless manner, far exceeding the cost of his meal. "Sir, take your change," Rose muttered with a mixture of resignation and frustration evident in his tone.

"You should take it and know a blessing when it shows itself." The decision was clear in my mind then. Taking the money would open doors I couldn't afford to open. It would give my father the impression that he had control, that he could waltz in and out of my business as he pleased. I couldn't risk that. And asking questions would only betray my identity, exposing me to his scrutiny and manipulation. So, with a firm resolve, I stood my ground and refused his offer, determined to maintain the boundaries I had set.

"We did nothing for this kind of money. If you want to donate money, give it to charity!" I feigned offense, hoping to divert his attention from my true intentions. My dad looked shocked, his expression shifting from surprise to suspicion. I held my ground, maintaining a façade of indignation. "We don't want your money," I added firmly, refusing to back down.

"Take the money," my dad demanded angrily, his tone betraying his frustration at my defiance.

"I won't take more than what your meal costs and a tip for the waitress!" I retorted stubbornly, trying to appear reasonable while still resisting his offer.

"Why?" he pressed, his gaze narrowing as he searched for any sign of weakness or vulnerability in my demeanor.

I pulled the little bug out of my jacket and shook the vial in his face, the contents rattling inside the glass vial as a silent threat. "Maybe it's because of you trying to get my restaurant shut down. I guess since buying off my suppliers wasn't working, you got a little desperate, no? LeVeoux doing that bad?" My voice was laced with a mixture of accusation and defiance, challenging him to deny his involvement in the ongoing sabotage attempts against my restaurant.

I could see the panic flashing across his face, but it was his assistant's shrill voice screaming, "Roach! There's a roach in here. Manny, get in here and do something!"

Rose stepped up next to me, her voice filled with irritation and confusion, "Who the heck is Manny?" Her eyes narrowed as she looked from my dad to his assistant, her frustration evident in every word.

"Manny is the health inspector I summoned, fully aware of the appalling conditions in your establishment. It's only fitting that someone official witness such filth firsthand," my father remarked, his tone devoid of remorse.

"Oh, you're referring to Manny Rivera, the former health inspector dismissed for accepting too many bribes from individuals like yourself?" I countered, feeling a surge of satisfaction as I recalled the information Jessie had recently divulged during her emotional confession.

"How?" My father looked taken aback, realizing that I had uncovered the issue before it was too late.

"Because I have connections," I lied remembering Travis quick interception of the man.

"You-"

"Sir, you underestimated your informant and failed to give her due credit. She's a decent individual caught in a difficult situation, and you exploited her vulnerability. I value her contributions and appreciate her efforts to nullify her initial agreement with you. If any harm befalls her, suspicions will naturally fall on you as the last person to interact with her," I stated, making it clear that his attempts to deceive were transparent to me.

"I will not stand around and be treated like this!" The realization that his schemes were unraveling dawned on him, evident from his infuriated expression.

My father appeared livid as he snatched the money and marched over to Rose, forcefully thrusting it into her hands. In his haste, he caused Rose to drop the money along with the tray of food she was still carrying, resulting in leftover split pea soup cascading onto his leg.

In that moment of chaos, his frustration reached its boiling point and my father's veneer of civility shattered. His eyes bore into Rose with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine, his disdain palpable in the air.

Without warning, he raised his hand and delivered a resounding slap across Rose's cheek, the sound reverberating through the stunned silence of the room. Rose staggered backward, the force of the blow causing her to lose her footing, and she crumpled to the floor with a heavy thud.

The echo of the slap still lingered in the air as thundering footsteps resonated from the stairs, signaling someone rushing to intervene.

Rose lay on the ground, her cheek already beginning to swell, tears welling up in her eyes from both pain and humiliation. It was a scene I had witnessed countless times before, my father's temper erupting in violent outbursts, but this time was different. This time, there was no excuse to blame incompetent staff or external circumstances. This time, the blame lay squarely on my father's shoulders. I watched Rose struggle to compose herself, as a surge of anger and determination welled up within me.

I hurried over to Rose's side, offering her a supportive hand to help her up from the floor. As she gingerly rose to her feet, I could see the mix of pain and gratitude in her eyes.

Turning my attention back to the CCTV camera, I made a mental note to save the recording as evidence. My father's violent outburst would not go unpunished, and I was determined to hold him accountable for his actions. The entire altercation, from my father's aggressive gesture to Rose's fall and the slap that followed, had surely been meticulously recorded by the CCTV cameras installed in the private dining room. Every word spoken, every movement made, was captured in crystal-clear audio and video, providing irrefutable evidence of my father's violent behavior.

Amid the chaos, our security team swiftly arrived upstairs, rushing to Rose's aid while also moving to escort my father out of the restaurant. One of the security guards gently helped Rose to her feet, while another approached my father and attempted to guide him towards the exit.

My father, however, was not going quietly. He spluttered and blustered, his face contorted with anger and indignation. With clenched fists and a raised voice, he bellowed, "Don't touch me!" His attempt at asserting authority only served to highlight his increasingly desperate and volatile demeanor.

Despite his protests, the security team remained firm, determined to maintain order and ensure the safety of everyone involved. With firm but respectful insistence, they continued their efforts to remove my father from the premises, determined not to allow his disruptive behavior to escalate any further.

"If you want, you can take some time off to process this event, Rose," I said softly, my voice filled with concern. "And take the money he left here as compensation."

"Sir," Rose whimpered, still visibly shaken by the ordeal.

"Don't worry, Rose," I reassured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "The entire thing was caught on camera with audio. We'll expose that he's the kind of guy to attack women servers for no reason. We'll get justice for you. I swear."

My words were meant to offer her some solace, but inside, I felt a seething anger towards my father for his despicable actions. It was clear that he would stop at nothing to assert his dominance, even if it meant resorting to violence against innocent people.

As Rose burst into tears and nodded gratefully, the weight of the situation settled heavily on my shoulders. Watching as security escorted her back downstairs into the work area, I couldn't help but feel a surge of determination to ensure justice prevailed.

After ensuring everything was cleaned up, I made my way up to my room, my mind buzzing with thoughts and emotions. The events of the evening had been intense, and I needed some time to process everything that had transpired. As I reached my room, I closed the door behind me and let out a long relieved sigh.