Chapter 4 - The Confrontation Beneath the CrossBefore Evan could process the truth, his foot caught against a wooden chair, making a sharp scraping noise across the stone floor.
Grace turned her head. Her eyes widened as she recognized the tall man standing in the shadowy entrance in his expensive tailored coat.
The basement quieted down. Grace handed her ladle to another volunteer, wiped her hands on her apron, and walked over to Evan.
“You followed me,” she said softly, her voice holding sadness rather than anger.
“Grace... what is this?” Evan asked, looking around at the hopeful, tired faces staring back at him. “Why didn't you tell me?”
Grace pointed toward a faded brass plaque on the brick wall. It bore a photograph of a smiling woman who looked remarkably like Grace.
“My mother ran this soup kitchen for twenty years before she passed away,” Grace said, her voice trembling slightly. “When I was a little girl, she used to bring soup here in that exact blue thermos. When your company bought West Harbor, you kept calling this land ‘underutilized.’ But to these people, Evan, it’s their only home.”
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Evan swallowed hard. “I didn’t know.”
“Because you never looked down from the forty-third floor,” Grace replied gently, placing a hand on her pregnant belly. “I didn't tell you because I was afraid you’d see them as an obstacle to your multi-billion-dollar dream.”
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