He picked his city center location, the first one he had launched, where his mother once assisted with baking pies!

Jordan Ellis stepped out of his black SUV on a sharp Monday morning, dressed in a way that would’ve fooled anyone. The man known for tailored suits, gleaming cufflinks, and the kind of watch that could buy a small condo now wore faded jeans, a stretched-out hoodie, and a knit cap tugged low enough to hide half his face. He looked like someone bracing for another grinding week, not a millionaire who owned a nationwide restaurant empire. That was the whole point. He needed to see his first diner exactly the way the public saw it — without the staff straightening their posture, without fake smiles, without the cleanup that magically happened whenever the boss announced a visit.

He crossed the street toward the downtown location, the same one he’d opened when he was nothing more than a guy with a beat-up food truck and more ambition than sense.

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