"Why?"
Richard whispered:
"Because everyone does it."
Arthur shook his head.
"No."
He looked at Michael.
"Not everyone."
Richard looked toward the door.
Then suddenly ran.
Security caught him before he reached the elevator.
The investigation expanded.
But Richard wasn't working alone.
His phone contained messages.
Names.
Payments.
Private buyers.
And one message that shocked Arthur.
Keep Whitmore away from the kitchen.
Someone had wanted Arthur blind.
Someone had wanted the food operation controlled.
Someone had wanted the waste system to continue.
Michael looked at Arthur.
"Who?"
Arthur stared at the message.
"I don't know."
Then Lily walked into the room.
She held something in her hand.
"Daddy?"
Michael looked down.
She was holding an old key.
"Where did you get that?"
"It was under the couch."
Arthur took it.
His expression changed.
He recognized it.
It was the key to the old bakery where he had once received yesterday's bread.
The old bakery had been abandoned for twenty years.
Arthur still owned the building.
They drove there that evening.
Michael.
Lily.
Arthur.
The building was dark.
Dust covered the windows.
Arthur unlocked the door.
Inside were old ovens.
Broken shelves.
Faded signs.
And memories.
Arthur walked toward the back room.
"This is where your father found me."
Michael looked around.
Lily held his hand.
Arthur found an old metal cabinet.
The key fit.
Inside was a box.
Michael opened it.
There were letters.
Photographs.
Receipts.
And a notebook.
James Carter's notebook.
Michael's hands trembled.
He opened the first page.
His father's handwriting filled it.
Arthur came back today.
Michael looked up.
Arthur was crying.
The notebook told the story.
James had continued helping Arthur for years.
He had given him advice.
Loaned him money.
Introduced him to suppliers.
Arthur eventually built his first restaurant.
Then the Bellmont.
Michael read one sentence again.
If Arthur ever succeeds, remind him where he started.
Arthur covered his face.
"I forgot."