Sterling—you’re fired. ”
Sterling stormed out. No one seconded his motion. Sarah took the chairman’s seat.
She looked at the stock ticker, which was already flickering green. “The kitchen’s on fire and the biggest complainer just left. Ms. Weathers—what’s our biggest bleed?
And how do we stop it? ”
Diane Weathers scrambled for her tablet, a new light in her eyes. “Yes, Ms. Thorne.
”
Six months later, the Morning Star Diner was the Jenkins Thorn Foundation for workers in crisis. Sarah had bought the building, rebuilt it as a center offering legal aid, housing grants, tuition assistance. Her brother Ben ran the intake. Marcus Thorne rarely visited Thorn Tower anymore.
He wore a flannel jacket and sat in the back booth. Sarah slid in opposite him. “How’s the coffee, Mike? ”
“Terrible.
Fire the person who made it. ”
“Ben made it. ”
“Never mind. ”
He looked happy.
The lines of stress were gone. He was just a man now, watching his daughter pull out a file, planning profit-sharing for truck drivers. She had not only saved his life—she had saved his legacy. “No one could save the dying billionaire,” Marcus said quietly.
Sarah looked up. “What was that? ”
He smiled and took her hand. “I said, order up.
”