She met Charles’s eyes. “I never did. We needed the money.”
Janet swallowed hard.
“I remember him telling me people like me should be grateful to serve people like him,” Margaret added. “He said it was our place.”
She smiled sadly. “Funny how habits pass down through families, isn’t it, Mr. Hayes?”
Charles’s face flushed. Sweat gathered along his hairline.
“These are stories,” he muttered. “Anyone could make this up.”
Margaret didn’t blink. “Your grandfather had a scar on his left hand,” she said slowly. “He got it the day he tried to smash a glass over my head. Missed. Cut himself. Told everyone it was a gardening accident.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Several customers quietly left. No one wanted to witness what was unfolding.
“I spent seventy years wondering if I’d ever show the Hayes family what happens when someone like me refuses to stay invisible,” Margaret said.
Charles shouted for security again, panic cracking his voice.
