Chapter 7
I brought every vendor into the ballroom the next morning.
Baker.
Florist.
Laundry.
Wine distributor.
Maintenance.
Musicians.
No members.
No Dominic.
I asked one question:
“What changed in the last two years?”
The answers filled three hours.
Late payments.
Extra fees.
Preferred access tiers.
Free goods demanded for “founder events.”
Staff expected to provide personal services to senior members.
Nothing violent.
Nothing dramatic.
Just endless small extractions.
The kind people tolerate because each one alone seems too small to risk losing a contract over.
Arthur Carter had been hit hardest because bread margins were thin.
He stopped paying.
Dominic reduced his club orders.
Then removed food allotments.
Then delayed invoices.
Arthur borrowed money to keep workers paid.
Maeve’s hunger was not because her father neglected her.
Her father had been protecting employees before himself.
I asked Arthur:
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
He laughed sadly.
“Through who?”
Good point.
Dominic controlled club access.
Victor controlled some family invitations.
Members assumed I knew.
Staff assumed complaining meant being difficult.
I had built a club where everyone technically could reach me.
May you like
Then allowed layers to grow until nobody believed they should.
That part was mine.
