Chapter 19: Cameras, Control, and Coming Collapse - Part 5

Theo took his food to one of the small tables, unwrapping it. The chicken was perfect, juicy, flavourful, skin crisp. The chips were golden, perfectly salted. He ate slowly, watching his team operate without him. They were doing it. They were running his business, effectively, profitably, without his constant oversight. A profound sense of satisfaction washed over him, deeper than just seeing positive sales numbers. This was freedom. This was leverage. This was the path forward.

Week 25 - Friday

He used his newfound 'free time' on Friday for another visit to 'Something Fishy'. He needed fresh intel. He arrived during the late lunch period. The shop was noticeably emptier than his own at the same time. The owner stood behind the counter, looking older, more haggard than just a week ago. His eyes were bloodshot, shoulders slumped.

Theo ordered fish and chips again, adopting a sympathetic expression. "Hey man, me again. Just checking in. How's things? Any better this week?"

The owner sighed heavily, leaning on the counter, momentarily forgetting customer service. "Better? It's a goddamn nightmare!" he burst out, his voice raspy with stress. "It's like the place is cursed! Freezer went haywire again, lost a whole case of cod! Fryer oil goes bad randomly out of nowhere, literally had customers spitting out food! Had to dump it all and close, half a day's business gone just like that. Then earlier this week, water pipe bursts out back! Major flooding, had the whole damn area roped off! Had to close the entire day yesterday to get it sorted and back up and running just earlier today. Losing money hand over fist, customers complaining non-stop… I swear, I'm this close," he held his thumb and forefinger millimetres apart, "this close to just walking away. Bankruptcy is starting to look appealing." He sounded utterly defeated.

Theo listened intently, his face fixed in a mask of careful commiseration, nodding sympathetically at the litany of woes. Cursed equipment? Bad luck? A humorless, internal sneer curled his lip. No, you miserable bastard. That wasn't bad luck hitting you from every angle. That was precision engineering. That was cause and effect, delivered invisibly, timed perfectly. He vividly pictured this same man, likely hunched over a keyboard weeks ago, gleefully typing out those poisonous, fabricated reviews, the lies about rats, the claims of rancid oil, specifically designed to cripple Maria's before it could regain its footing, before Theo could succeed.

Normally, Theo thought, the cold satisfaction hardening into something sharp edged and dangerous within him, I wouldn't bother with this level of… targeted disruption. Business is business. You compete, you win or you lose based on quality and execution, though my +1 ability does give me an unfair advantage. But that's life, get your own super powers if you don't like it. He met the owner's miserable, slightly panicked gaze, his own eyes carefully neutral, betraying nothing of the icy contempt churning inside. But you didn't compete fairly. You went straight for sabotage. You tried to kneecap me right out of the gate, tried to destroy my reputation with outright lies because you couldn't handle the pressure of legitimate competition.

That forced my hand. The justification felt clean, righteous even, in the cold calculus of his mind. You don't get to launch an unprovoked attack and expect your opponent to play by the rules you yourself discarded. Maybe I'm not a 'nice' person when cornered. I don't play nice with hyenas who try to tear down something I'm building. You wanted to play dirty? Fine. But my game is smarter, subtler, and far more effective. He felt a surge of adrenaline, the thrill of control, of payback. Don't ever mess with me. You started this war, and I intend to finish it, on my terms. Bankruptcy wasn't just a consequence. It was the objective.

"Man, that's brutal," Theo said, shaking his head with faux sympathy. "Really sorry to hear it. Hope things turn around for you." He paid for his (likely mediocre) food, his mind already leaping ahead. Almost time.

Week 25 - Saturday

Saturday. Theo spent part of the day remotely monitoring the shop via the Ring app. He watched Henry expertly handle a large catering inquiry over the phone, saw Olivia charm a group of noisy teenagers into adding desserts to their order, observed Jenny calmly manage both fryer baskets during a surge. Peace of mind settled over him. He trusted them. The cameras were there as a backstop, a security measure, but he no longer felt the compulsive need to watch every second. He spent the afternoon researching business brokers and commercial property lawyers, anticipating he may need them next week…