Investors in tailored suits. Women adorned with diamonds. Chefs watching from behind the mirrored wall. Fellow waitresses frozen with fear at the edges of the room.
Mia knelt.
Mr. Gozon smiled.
“Well?” he muttered sharply. “Hurry up. Don’t waste my guests’ time.”
Mia inhaled deeply. Her hands touched the floor, trembling. Tears traced down her cheeks—but something inside her shifted, as if a long-closed door had begun to open.
She did not reach for the meat.
Instead, she rose.
One step. Then another. Her back straightened. Her chin lifted.
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