Chapter 2 - THE APOLOGY THAT MADE IT WORSE
Victor ordered everyone to stop recording.
Nobody did.
He turned to Celeste.
“Apologize.”
She stared at him.
“What?”
“Now.”
Her muddy hands curled.
“You’re taking their side?”
Victor lowered his voice.
“Apologize to Mr. Mercer and his daughter.”
Celeste looked at me.
There was no regret in her eyes.
Only calculation.
“I’m sorry you misunderstood.”
I almost admired it.
Dad did not.
“That isn’t an apology.”
Celeste snapped.
“She punched me!”
“After you pulled her hair.”
“I barely touched her.”
A guest near the railing said.
“You slapped her first.”
Celeste spun.
“Stay out of this.”
Another voice.
“You grabbed her braid.”
Then another.
“We all saw it.”
The crowd had found courage.
Late.
But useful.
Adrian rubbed his forehead.
“Celeste, just apologize.”
She stared at him.
“You too?”
“I’m trying to save the weekend.”
That sentence told me exactly what kind of man he was.
Not stop the cruelty.
Save the weekend.
Victor pulled Dad aside.
“Elias, please.”
Dad’s face hardened.
“Don’t.”
“We can settle this privately.”
“There is nothing private about two hundred phones.”
Victor swallowed.
“Harrow Crest is in the middle of refinancing.”
“I know.”
“We have twelve thousand employees.”
“I know.”
“If Mercer Dominion pulls the bridge facility—”
“I haven’t said I would.”
Victor exhaled.
Then Dad added.
“Yet.”
Celeste heard it.
Her face changed.
She came toward me again.
“This is because of her.”
“No,” Dad said.
“This is because of you.”
Then Celeste did something unbelievable.
She smiled at me.
“You planned this.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“You came here knowing who your father was.”
“Yes.”
“Exactly.”
I laughed.
It slipped out.
Celeste’s voice rose.
“You wanted me to react.”
“You slapped me because I knew my father?”
“You dressed like staff.”
I looked down at my burgundy top and dark jeans.
“Staff?”
“You were standing near the service entrance.”
Dad closed his eyes.
Victor whispered.
“Celeste, stop talking.”
She didn’t.
“You people love pretending to be humble so you can catch someone making a mistake.”
Dad looked at Victor.
“Is this how she talks to your employees?”
Victor said nothing.
That silence was louder than anything.
Then a woman in a black catering uniform stepped forward.
Her name tag read MARIA.
Her voice shook.
“She threw a tray at me yesterday.”
Celeste froze.
Another employee raised his hand.
“She made me clean wine off her shoes while she was wearing them.”
A third said.
“She called the housekeeper’s son a stray.”
Victor’s face collapsed.
Dad looked at me.
The slap was no longer the story.
May you like
It was the door.
