Chapter 2 - THE PRICE OF SILENCE
Gregory entered the office with the smile of a man who believed money could erase anything.
"Mr. Hayes, I can explain."
"Then explain."
Ethan stood beside the desk, his hands resting loosely at his sides.
Gregory glanced at me.
His smile disappeared.
"Why is she still here?"
"Because I asked her to stay."
"Sir, with respect, she's a disgruntled former employee."
"Was she employed here?"
"Temporarily."
"Did she work?"
"Well, technically—"
"That's a yes or no question."
Gregory swallowed.
"Yes."
"Did you pay her?"
A pause.
"Her work wasn't satisfactory."
Ethan looked toward the bodyguard, who had just connected my phone to a charger.
"Show me."
The screen lit up.
I entered my passcode with trembling fingers.
There they were.
Messages from Gregory assigning me closing shifts, telling me to arrive early, ordering me to stay late.
One message read:
MAKE SURE THE FREEZER FLOOR IS DONE BEFORE MIDNIGHT.
Another:
I DON'T CARE IF YOUR SITTER HAS TO LEAVE. FINISH THE JOB.
I watched Ethan read them.
His expression didn't change.
That somehow made him more frightening.
"Gregory," he said, "you told me she wasn't reliable."
"She wasn't."
"Yet you repeatedly asked her to work additional hours."
"Because we were short-staffed."
"And you promised her three hundred dollars?"
Gregory hesitated.
I opened another message.
PAYMENT FRIDAY. $300 AS AGREED.
Ethan turned the screen toward him.
"Is that your number?"
Gregory's face reddened.
"Yes, but there's context."
"Then provide it."
"She became difficult."
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I couldn't stay silent.
"I asked you to pay me."
Gregory pointed at me.
"See? This is exactly what I'm talking about."
I felt myself shrinking.
That was what he had done every time I asked a question.
Made me feel unreasonable for wanting what I had earned.
But Ethan didn't look at me.
He looked at Gregory's pointing finger.
"Put your hand down."
Gregory obeyed.
The room fell silent.
"Norah," Ethan said, "tell me what happened on your last shift."
I took a breath.
"I finished cleaning the freezer at eleven forty. Gregory checked it himself. He told me to come back Friday for my pay."
"And Friday?"
"He texted me that I was fired."
"Did he give a reason?"
"Not until I asked for my money."
Ethan turned back to Gregory.
"Why didn't you pay her?"
Gregory's eyes darted toward the door.
"Cash-flow issues."
I almost laughed.
The restaurant had served a private party that afternoon with bottles of wine worth more than my rent.
"Cash-flow issues," Ethan repeated.
"Yes, sir."
"Then why didn't you report them?"
Gregory opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Ethan took a step closer.
"Three hundred dollars isn't a cash-flow problem for this restaurant."
Gregory looked at me with open hatred.
And I understood something.
He wasn't embarrassed because he'd cheated me.
He was furious because someone had made him answer for it.
"Mr. Hayes," he said quietly, "I think this should be handled privately."
"It is private."
"Without her."
"No."
Gregory's jaw tightened.
"She doesn't understand how these things work."
For the first time, Ethan's voice rose.
"She understands that she worked and you didn't pay her."
The words seemed to strike Gregory physically.
He went pale.
I sat very still.
For a month, Gregory had controlled whether I worked, whether I got paid, whether I could afford formula.
Now he couldn't even control the conversation.
Ethan reached for the office phone.
"Have accounting bring the temporary labor records."
Gregory stepped forward.
"That's unnecessary."
"Then you won't mind."
"Mr. Hayes—"
"Sit down."
Gregory sat.
I stared at him.
The man who had once made me wait outside his office for forty minutes while he finished his lunch now sat sweating in his own chair.
A waiter entered with a tray.
Warm soup.
Bread.
A glass of water.
The smell hit me so suddenly that my stomach cramped.
Ethan pulled the tray closer.
"Eat."
I hesitated.
Gregory watched with a look of disgust.
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"She'll probably expect you to pay for that, too."
Ethan slowly turned toward him.
"Get out."
Gregory blinked.
"Sir?"
"Wait outside until accounting arrives."
"But—"
"Now."
The door closed behind him.
I picked up the spoon.
My hands were shaking.
I took one mouthful.
Then another.
The warmth spread through my chest, and I suddenly realized how cold I'd been for days.
I hated that I began crying.
Not loudly.
Just tears slipping down my face while I tried to swallow soup.
Ethan moved a box of tissues within reach.
He didn't tell me to stop.
He didn't tell me to be grateful.
He simply waited.
After a moment, he asked, "How old is Sam?"
"Eleven months."
"Does he look like you?"
I smiled despite myself.
"He has my eyes. But his hair sticks straight up no matter what I do."
Something flickered across Ethan's face.
A memory, perhaps.
I didn't ask.
"His father?" Ethan said.
"Not involved."
"Family?"
"My mother died before Sam was born."
"I'm sorry."
I nodded.
There was nothing else to say.
The office phone rang.
Ethan answered.
He listened for a moment.
Then his eyes moved toward the door.
"Bring the records."
He hung up.
"What is it?" I asked.
He looked at my handwritten shift list.
"Accounting has no record of Gregory hiring you."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
"Your name isn't on the temporary payroll."
"But I worked here."
"I know."
"Then how can they say—"
"Because someone kept your work off the books."
I stared at him.
He placed the phone beside my records.
"That doesn't mean you weren't owed the money."
He paused.
"It means Gregory has more explaining to do."
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And when the accounting clerk entered carrying a folder, the first thing she said was:
"Mr. Hayes, this isn't the first complaint we've received."
