Chapter 1
The man slapped me so hard I crashed into a serving cart, sending steak, mashed potatoes, and broken plates across the floor. He had no idea I was the one person in that restaurant he couldn't afford to touch.
For three seconds, the entire dining room went silent.
I was covering a Friday night shift at our steakhouse in downtown Chicago because two servers had called in sick.
The man at table twelve had been complaining since the moment he sat down.
“My steak was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said. “The kitchen is finishing it now.”
He slammed his glass onto the table.
“Do I look like someone who waits?”
His wife stared down at her plate.
A few minutes later, I brought out his ribeye.
He cut into it once and shoved the plate toward me.
“This is medium.”
“You ordered medium, sir.”
His face hardened.
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, I’m just saying I can have the kitchen—”
He stood so fast his chair scraped across the floor.
Then he slapped me.
I crashed into the serving cart, and dishes exploded around me.
Someone screamed.
My manager, Kevin, came running.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The man adjusted his jacket like nothing had happened.
“Your waitress needs to learn some manners.”
My cheek burned as I pushed myself up.
Kevin reached for his phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
The man laughed.
“Do you know who I am?”
Then he dropped his business card onto the floor in front of me.
Richard Caldwell, CEO of Caldwell Development.
My stomach tightened.
I knew that name very well.
Richard pointed at Kevin.
“Fire her, and maybe I won’t have this place buried in bad reviews by morning.”
Kevin looked at me.
I quietly shook my head.
“Don’t fire me.”
Richard smirked.
Then my phone vibrated inside my apron.
It was a message from my father.
We’re pulling up now. Caldwell thinks tonight’s dinner is to finalize his $28 million loan.
I looked through the front windows.
Three black SUVs had just stopped outside.
Richard followed my eyes, and his smile widened.
“Finally. The investors are here.”
I wiped blood from the corner of my lip.
“You’re right.”
The front door opened, and my father walked inside with our company’s attorney and two board members.
Richard rushed toward him with his hand extended.
“Mr. Bennett, great to finally meet you.”
My father didn’t take his hand.
He was staring at my face.
Then he looked at the broken dishes around my feet.
“Emily,” he said quietly, “who did this to you?”
May you like
Richard slowly turned toward me.
And for the first time all night, he looked afraid.
