This was not a birthday dinner.
It was a boardroom with candles.
Damon spent the evening talking about vision, growth, and legacy. He told people the workshop property was “underperforming land.” He told a developer the family was emotionally attached but ready.
Ready.
That word made my stomach tighten.
Then he came beside me and whispered, “Try not to bring up pipes, permits, or poor people tonight. Grandpa deserves ambition.”
I turned to answer, but saw Grandpa standing in the doorway.
He had heard enough.
During dinner, one of Grandpa’s old friends asked me about a stormwater project I had helped manage. I explained how it protected nearly two hundred homes.
Damon laughed.
“That’s cute,” he said. “But tonight is about real money, not city maintenance.”
The room shifted.
I asked, “What happens to the apprentices if the workshop closes?”
Damon smiled coldly.
“They adapt. Successful people always do.”
