Page 116 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
Steinberg’s face goes pale. “I don’t know what you’re implying?—”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m stating directly that Coastal Capital has a pattern of using small-town partnerships togain access to federal funding and community assets, then restructuring projects to benefit corporate profits while leaving local partners destroyed.”
“Where did you get those documents?” one of the associates demands.
“From the communities you’ve devastated,” I answer. “Communities that documented everything and have been sharing information through networks you apparently didn’t know existed.”
The power dynamic in the call shifts visibly. Steinberg and his team exchange increasingly panicked glances while Michelle continues laying out evidence.
“Twin Waves isn’t another hunting ground,” Michelle says, her voice carrying steel wrapped in silk. “The federal grants are protected by oversight requirements that prevent the kind of exploitation you’ve practiced elsewhere. The community has documentation of every project decision, every financial exchange, every partnership agreement.”
“And,” I add, watching Steinberg’s desperation mount, “the preservation requirements mean that any development must serve community needs rather than corporate extraction. You can’t strip-mine Twin Waves the way you’ve strip-mined other coastal towns.”
Steinberg’s composure finally cracks. “Mr. Reed, if you proceed with this partnership restructuring, Coastal Capital will withdraw all funding and terminate our contract immediately.”
The threat should terrify me. Coastal Capital represents millions in investment capital, connections to major development projects, and career opportunities that could take decades to replace. Losing them means starting over professionally, potentially sacrificing everything I’ve built.
Instead, I feel nothing but relief.
“Mr. Steinberg,” I say, leaning into the camera with Michelle beside me, “Coastal Capital is welcome to withdraw from any project that prioritizes community benefit over corporate extraction.”
“You’re making a significant mistake,” Steinberg warns.
“The only mistake,” Michelle interjects, her voice carrying the kind of quiet confidence that makes my chest tight with pride, “would be allowing Coastal Capital to destroy Twin Waves the way you’ve destroyed twelve other communities.”
“We have legal recourse?—”
“You have legal exposure,” I correct. “Exploitation of federal grant programs is a federal crime. Communities you’ve victimized have been coordinating with authorities who are very interested in Coastal Capital’s business practices.”
The call ends abruptly as Steinberg cuts the connection, leaving Michelle and me staring at a black screen in sudden silence.
“Well,” Michelle says after a moment, “that could have gone worse.”
I close the laptop and turn to face her fully, awareness crackling between us like electrical current. She’s close enough that I can see the triumph in her dark eyes, close enough that the space between us feels charged with everything we’ve just accomplished together.
“Any regrets about torching my relationship with major investors?” I ask.
Her smile could power municipal lighting. “Only that we didn’t do it sooner.”
The admission hits me like lightning. Michelle has been ready to fight beside me, ready to choose community over corporate profits, ready to risk everything we’ve built for the chance to build something better.
Ready to choose us over every safe, profitable alternative.
“Michelle,” I start, but she’s already moving, already reaching for me with the same certainty that carried her through the investor confrontation.
Her kiss tastes like victory and coffee and the dangerous kind of certainty that changes everything. I pull her closer, grateful for the solid reality of her in my arms after two days of thinking I’d lost her forever.
“I love you,” she whispers against my mouth, the words hitting harder than any business victory. “I love that you chose community over profit. I love that you chose us over everything else.”
“I love you too,” I manage, wondering how I ever thought professional success could matter more than this moment. “I love that you taught me what’s worth fighting for.”
Before I can say anything else, my phone rings with Scott’s distinctive ringtone.
“Should I answer it?” I ask, reluctant to break the connection between us.
Michelle grins with the expression of a woman who’s realized she can have everything she wants. “Answer it. Let’s find out how quickly news travels in the development world.”
I accept the call and put it on speaker. “Scott?”
