Chapter 6 - The Grudge of Donald Vance
While Noah Vance was soaring to unprecedented heights of corporate influence, back in a Kane County holding cell, life had taken a decidedly miserable turn for Donald Vance.
Following his abrupt termination and the subsequent seizure of store #409, federal forensic auditors—acting on direct orders from Bennett Global’s legal division—had uncovered a decade of systematic tax evasion, wage theft, health code falsification, and tip-skimming tied directly to Donald’s management practices.
Donald was out of a job, facing federal criminal indictments, and blacklisted from every food service chain in North America.
Sitting in a rundown neighborhood bar three miles from his old store, nursing a cheap glass of draft beer, Donald stared blankly at a midday financial news broadcast playing on the muted television above the bar.
The screen flashed a crisp, high-definition photo of a handsome, sharp-suited nineteen-year-old young man standing beside billionaire founder Harold Bennett and CEO Arthur Sterling at a press conference announcing a massive national worker welfare initiative.
The anchor’s voice scrolled across the banner: Bennett Global Appoints Noah Vance Director of Ethics; Unveils $100 Million Living Wage Endowment.
Donald choked on his beer, coughing violently as he stared at the television screen in absolute, paralyzing disbelief.
"Noah... Noah Vance?" Donald rasped, his voice cracking as the horrifying realization crashed over him like a tidal wave. "The kid... the kid who worked my oven? He’s the Director of Ethics?!"
The bartender wiped down the counter in front of Donald, glancing up at the television with a nod of awe. "Crazy, huh? Some billionaire went undercover as a homeless guy, the kid gave him a free pizza out of his own pocket, and boom—the kid gets handed half an empire. That's what I call hitting the lottery."
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Donald dropped his head into his hands, the bitter, crushing weight of his own arrogant cruelty finally destroying him. He remembered screaming at Noah. He remembered ripping the nametag off his shirt. He had kicked away a golden ticket because he was too blind, too cynical, and too heartless to recognize human decency when it stood right in front of his prep counter.
He was broke, disgraced, and utterly ruined—not by bad luck, but by his own small-minded hatred.
