Paul, the manager, overheard us.
He looked at Eric.
“Your father told us he was trying to make things right.”
Eric went still.
Then he did something I didn’t expect.
“She did not know Nathan was her father. I did. I helped him hide it until he died.”
“He lied to her,” he said.
Paul frowned.
Eric continued.
“She did not know Nathan was her father. I did. I helped him hide it until he died.”
The room became silent.
That was the first time he stopped protecting Nathan’s image.
Rosa stared at him.
Eric’s face reddened, but he did not look away.
“I chose his wishes over her right to know. Whatever happens to this diner, do not blame her for delaying the decision.”
That was the first time he stopped protecting Nathan’s image.
Three days later, Eric sent me a written apology.
That was the first thing he did that cost him something.
He offered to withdraw as estate representative and pay for independent counsel to review every document.
That was the first thing he did that cost him something.
I agreed to review the diner’s accounts.
For four months, we met twice a week.
We argued about money, staffing, and whether saving the diner was loyalty or guilt.
Eric disclosed every mistake before I found it.
