Chapter 4 - Champagne and Arrogance
Inside Carbone, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of roasted garlic, aged truffles, and the intoxicating perfume of old money. Red velvet banquettes lined the dining room, illuminated by soft amber chandeliers that cast a golden glow over Manhattan’s financial elite.
At the prime corner booth—a table normally reserved for Hollywood celebrities and sovereign wealth managers—Dominic sat holding court. He had ordered the finest cuts of veal parmesan, three towers of fresh oysters, and two vintage bottles of wine that were chilling in silver buckets beside the table.
Victoria swirled her red wine, her diamond rings clinking against the crystal glass. “I must say, Dominic, you’ve finally arrived. When you were dating that plain little teacher, I was terrified you’d spend your life living in a cramped Queens walk-up. I always told Arthur that you were destined for high society.”
Dominic puffed his chest out, adjusting the cufflinks he had purchased with his company expense account. “Mother, a man of my caliber simply needs the right vision. Audrey is fine for keeping house and changing diapers, but she lacks ambition. She doesn't have the sophistication required for the circles I’m moving into now.”
Arthur, his father, sliced into his prime steak. “Still, son, leaving her on the street right after surgery... wasn't that a bit harsh? What if someone from the tech boards saw you?”
“Oh, please, Arthur!” Victoria waved her hand dismissively. “Women have been having babies in fields for ten thousand years. Audrey just exaggerates everything to get Dominic’s attention. Giving her fifty dollars was more than generous. She probably used half of it on cheap donuts anyway.”
Natalie chimed in, giggling between bites of pasta. “Did you see her face when you told her about the leftover rice? Priceless! Honestly, Dominic, once Apex closes this next funding round, you should really file for sole custody and find yourself an actual society wife. Someone who belongs at the Met Gala, not someone who buys clothes off the clearance rack at Target.”
Dominic smirked, taking a long sip of his vintage wine. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Nat. I need Audrey to handle the baby while I close the buyout with Vanguard Horizon. Once David Vance signs over the remaining voting rights to me next week, I’ll own ninety percent of Apex outright. After that... well, let's just say my prenup was drafted by very thorough attorneys.”
Just as Dominic raised his glass to propose a toast to their collective wealth, the heavy mahogany entrance doors of Carbone swung open with a resounding thud.
The lively hum of the restaurant suddenly dropped several octaves.
A man in a bespoke three-piece Savile Row suit stepped inside, accompanied by four private security officers wearing the golden lapel pins of Brooks Global Corp. It was David Vance, the prominent managing partner whom Dominic had spent months attempting to impress.
Dominic’s eyes widened with manic excitement. He dropped his fork onto his porcelain plate with a loud clatter.
“Mom, Dad, look!” Dominic hissed in a frantic whisper, hastily wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. “That’s David Vance! That’s the principal director of Vanguard Horizon! He controls the twelve-million-dollar fund!”
Victoria gasped, quickly smoothing her hair. “Is he here to see you, darling?”
“He must have tracked my corporate card to surprise me with the closing contracts!” Dominic declared triumphantly, already rising to his feet with an arrogant grin plastered across his face. “Watch this, family. This is how real power operates.”
Dominic smoothed his jacket and strutted toward the front of the restaurant, his hand outstretched with practiced charm.
“Mr. Vance! What a marvelous surprise! I see your office tracked down my lunch location. Please, come join my family at table four. We have an extra bottle of Chateau Margaux waiting.”
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David Vance stopped. He didn’t take Dominic’s outstretched hand. In fact, he looked at Dominic with the cold, sterile detachment of an exterminator examining a termite.
“I am not here to drink wine with you, Dominic,” Vance said, his voice cutting through the dining room with razor sharpness. “And you no longer have an expense account to pay for it.”
