My father, Michael Caldwell's, hand began to tremble. "Mitch! Don't you dare agree to this! Your uncle clearly said the profits would be split equally—"Before he could finish speaking, my cousin, Maxwell Caldwell, knitted his brows and cut him off. "Let's get one thing straight, Uncle Michael. My dad rented this place, bought the equipment, and hired the staff. All that talk about splitting the profits was nothing more than a courtesy! How thick-skinned do you have to be to actually take it seriously?" My other cousin, Melanie Caldwell, curled her lips and let out a chuckle. "Besides, we haven't even billed you for all the food you two sneak from the kitchen. So, don't push your luck!"I merely listened. I remembered the year Dad and I invested in the business. Back then, the storefront was still just a dilapidated food stall where the flies outnumbered the customers. My uncle, Malcolm Caldwell, had shown up at our house with a basket of fruit. With an earnest look on his face,
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