"Mom?" Madison's voice cut through the moment. Sharp. Knowing. "Are you alright?"

Sabrina jerked back like she'd been burned. Released my hand. Stumbled back a step. Her face was flushed, her breathing ragged, her eyes unfocused.

"I'm fine," she said quickly. Too quickly. "Just... just a little warm. The restaurant is... is it warm in here?"

"The temperature is sixty-eight degrees," Antonio said, confused. "Perfect."

"Right. Yes. Perfect." Sabrina reached for her wine glass with a shaking hand. Drained half of it in one desperate swallow. Then reached for her water glass and drained that too.

Her eyes kept darting to me. Then away. Then back. Like she couldn't help herself.

The taboo seed was planted. The desire awakened.

And there was no putting it back to sleep.

But then Antonio laughed. "Better? Hell, you two will be family soon! Plenty of time for that!"

I released Sabrina's hand. Smiled at Antonio. Stepped back to Madison's side like nothing had happened.

But Sabrina stood there for a moment longer. Her hand still extended. Her expression somewhere between shocked and... something else. Something hungry.

Then she seemed to remember where she was. Sat down. Reached for her wine glass. Drained half of it in one swallow.

Madison squeezed my hand. Leaned in. Whispered: "You're terrible."

"You love it," I whispered back.

"I do," she admitted. "But watch yourself. Mom's not stupid. And Dad definitely isn't."

Antonio was gesturing everyone to sit. "Come, come! Let's—"

"Wait," Madison said, standing. Her voice clear. Confident. "Before we start, I have something to announce."

Everyone stopped. Turned to look at her.

Madison stood at the head of the table, radiant in her burgundy dress. Her chin lifted. Her shoulders back. Every inch the daughter of a real estate empire who'd finally stepped into her own power.

"I know everyone knows why we're here," she said, her eyes moving from her father to her mother to my family. "But why Élévation. Why the entire restaurant is empty tonight except for us."

Antonio's eyebrows rose. "Madison—"

"Peter and I own this restaurant," Madison announced. Pride ringing in her voice. "We bought it a few days ago as I told you. We've been running it together. Managing operations, improving efficiency, increasing revenue by forty percent."

Silence.

"We own Élévation," Madison repeated, stronger now. "A two-Michelin-star restaurant. We booked it entirely for tonight because this is ours. This is what we've built together."

She looked at her father directly. "You've always told me I was smart, Daddy. That I had potential. That someday I'd prove myself. Well... this is me proving it. This is me showing you I'm not just your little girl anymore. I'm a businesswoman. A partner. Someone who can build something that matters."

Antonio's expression cycled through shock, disbelief, pride, and something that looked like he might cry.

Sabrina was staring at Madison with an expression I couldn't quite read. Surprise, yes. But also something else. Recognition maybe. Like she was seeing her daughter truly independent for the first time.

Linda was looking at me. Proud despite the questions. Because her son had built something. Her son was being celebrated. Her son was becoming something she'd never imagined when she'd adopted that baby sixteen years ago.

"The revenue increase," Madison continued, addressing the table now. "That was Peter's financial modeling and my supplier negotiations. The new head chef from Lyon? My recruitment. The expanded tasting menu? Our collaboration. We did this together. As equals. As partners."

She reached for my hand. I stood, moving to her side.

"So tonight," Madison said, squeezing my fingers. "Tonight we're not just two families meeting. We're celebrating what Peter and I have built. What we're building. Our future."

She looked at me. Smiled. That radiant, proud smile that made her absolutely devastating.

"Together," she finished.

Antonio stood slowly. Walked to Madison. For a moment I thought he might be angry. That maybe she'd overstepped. That maybe announcing this without his prior knowledge was—

He pulled her into a hug. Tight. Emotional. His hand on the back of her head like she was still his little girl but also... not.

"I'm so proud of you," he said, his voice thick. "So incredibly proud."

When he pulled back, his eyes were actually wet. But then his expression shifted slightly. The businessman emerging beneath the emotional father.

"Three days," he said, his tone changing. More analytical. "You've been running a two-Michelin-star restaurant for three days and didn't tell me. Why?"

Madison lifted her chin. "Because I needed to prove I could do it. Not with your advice. Not with your connections. Not with your safety net. Just me and Peter. As partners."

Antonio studied her face. Then nodded slowly. "Smart. Very smart." He looked at me. "And risky. Restaurant failure rate is what—sixty percent in the first year? You put significant capital into a volatile business without consulting anyone."

"We did our due diligence," I said calmly. "Financial modeling. Market analysis. Operational assessment. The previous owner was selling for family reasons but the fundamentals were sound. We saw opportunity where others saw risk."

"And the forty percent revenue increase?" Antonio's eyes were sharp now. Testing. "That's not just luck. That's systematic change. What did you do?"

"Operational efficiency," I said. "I analyzed customer flow, table turnover, supplier costs, labor optimization. We cut waste by twenty-three percent. Renegotiated supplier contracts. Adjusted the menu to favor high-margin items without sacrificing quality."

"And I rebuilt the marketing," Madison added. "Social media presence was nonexistent. We created an Instagram strategy, partnered with food influencers, we will host private tasting events for LA's elite. Generate buzz. Build exclusivity."

Antonio was nodding. Really listening now. "You two work well together. Complementary skills. That's..." He paused. "That's rare. Even in business partnerships. Especially in romantic ones."

He extended his hand to me. When I shook it, his grip was firm. Assessing.

"You're young," he said quietly. "Sixteen. That should worry me. Should make me question whether you're ready for my daughter. Whether you understand what you're taking on."

"Sir—"

"But," Antonio continued, "you saved us twenty billion dollars. You co-own a Michelin-star restaurant that's promising to thrive. My daughter looks at you like you're her equal, not her superior or inferior. And from what I know..." He glanced at Mom, at my sisters. "You come from good people. People who raised you right."

He pulled me into a hug. Patted my back. Oh, gods this won't end. "Welcome to the family, son. Officially. But understand something—you hurt her, and it doesn't matter how smart you are or how much money you have. I'll make your life very difficult."

It wasn't a joke. His voice was friendly but the threat was real.

"I have no intention of hurting her," I said seriously. "Madison is... everything. I would love to assert the same warning to you... don't ever hurt her!"

Antonio pulled back laughing so hard his head thrown at the back. Studied my face. Then smiled—genuine warmth returning. "Good. That's the right answer." He raised his voice to the table. "Now let's eat! Let's celebrate! And Peter, you're sitting next to me. I want to hear everything about this AI platform you built for Quantum Tech. Madison tells me everything."

You have no idea old man. She did not tell you; your wife kissed me and wants my godly stick deep inside her cunt. But hey, ignorance is a bliss.

Linda was wiping her eyes. Emma was grinning. Sarah was watching with that analytical expression that said she was cataloguing every detail for future reference.

And Sabrina...

Sabrina was staring at Madison and me with an expression that was complex. Proud of her daughter, yes. But also something else. Something hungry. Like she was watching the kind of partnership she'd never had with Antonio. The kind of equality. The kind of fire.

"Now," Antonio said, returning to his seat. "Now let's eat. Let's celebrate. Let's enjoy this incredible restaurant my daughter owns!"

Everyone settled. The energy shifted. Pride and joy and excitement replacing the earlier tension.

Well. Most of the tension.

Because Sabrina was still staring at me. And I was very deliberately not looking back.

Yet.

Antonio poured wine—a 2015 Château Margaux that probably cost four figures per bottle. Passed glasses around. Raised his own.

"A toast!" he announced, his voice thick with emotion. "To my daughter. To Peter. To partnerships that are built on respect and equality. To new family. And to all of us—may we build something together that lasts generations!"

"To family. To family!" Everyone raised their glasses.

I settled into my seat—between Madison and Antonio as he'd indicated earlier. Directly across from me sat Sabrina.

Of course.

The universe had a sense of humor.

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