A customer walked in, a man in work boots and a paint-stained shirt. Harold watched. The cashier on her phone didn’t look up, didn’t greet him. The man stood at the counter for nearly a full minute before anyone acknowledged he existed.

Harold gripped the steering wheel. 40 locations, thousands of employees, and the one store that was supposed to represent everything he believed in — the original, the first, the flagship — was rotting from the inside.

He pulled out his phone and opened the employee schedule for the flagship. 14 names. Two kept appearing on every high-traffic shift: Tiffany Grant and Jenna Moore.

A third name caught his eye, Emma Sullivan. She was only scheduled for 5:00 a.m. openings and 10:00 p.m. closings, the dead zones, every single week.

Harold stared at that name, then he started the car. Something was very wrong inside his own house, and he was going to find out what.

The next morning, Harold Coleman did something he hadn’t done in 3 years. He got dressed like a nobody. Worn jacket from the back of his closet, old baseball cap, no watch. He left the Omega on the bathroom counter.

No car service. He took the bus. Rode it 14 stops to Colfax Avenue and walked two blocks to the Denver flagship of Iron Brew Coffee, the store he’d built with money he borrowed from his mother’s retirement fund, the store where he’d poured the first cup himself and handed it to a stranger for free.

He pushed the door open. The bell above it chimed. Nobody looked up. Tiffany Grant was behind the register, phone in one hand, the other resting flat on the counter like she was guarding it.

Jenna Moore stood at the espresso machine, scrolling through something on her screen, a towel draped over her shoulder she clearly hadn’t used.

Harold stepped to the counter, stood there. 5 seconds, 10, 15. A young white couple walked in behind him. Tiffany’s head snapped up instantly, bright smile.

“Hey guys, welcome to Iron Brew. What can I get started for you?” She took their order around Harold, like he was a pillar, like he was furniture.