Zuria
I froze as Peter walked in, his arm possessively wrapped around his wife. His gaze found mine and didn't waver. There was so much hate in his eyes that it made the hair on my arms stand.
"I regret the day I took you into my house," he spat, his voice loud enough to silence the clinking cutlery and background chatter of the restaurant.
I blinked, unsure I heard him right. "What…?"
He stepped forward, jaw clenched, voice shaking with bitterness. "Ever since you stepped foot into my house, it's been nothing but bad luck. My wife and I—" he gestured roughly to Celeste, "—we can't even have a child because of you!"
The words hit me like a slap. I stared at him, stunned. Was this really Peter? The man who had always stood at the sidelines and let his wife do the talking? His outburst was full of rage I never expected from him.
My brows furrowed in confusion as I tried to process it. "Uncle… what do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said." His grip on Celeste loosened as she tried to move toward me, but he yanked her back. "You brought misfortune into our home, Zuria. I should've seen it earlier. When we were banished because of your mess, I knew I'd made a mistake letting you stay under my roof."
"That wasn't my fault!" My voice shook. "Your wife starved me, locked me in, made me wear clothes that barely held together—and you just watched. You never spoke up for me. Not once. I still didn't hold a grudge. But now you're blaming me?"
Danny's eyes locked with mine from across the restaurant. He was tall enough to see everything, and the concern in his eyes made my heart stutter.
Peter scoffed, his expression twisted with resentment. "You were nothing but a parasite! You leeched off us, and all we got in return was misery. Look at Celeste now! She drinks like a sailor at sea—morning, noon, night! She spends our money like it grows on trees!"
"That's not on me," I said, stepping forward. "You both made your choices. I didn't force her to drink. I didn't ruin your marriage."
"Don't speak to me like that!"
"I will speak however I want," I said, louder now. "This is my workplace. You and your wife have already caused enough commotion. Leave. Now."
"You can't talk to me that way!" His voice rose again, and his eyes gleamed with fury.
"I can—and I will. I'm not under your roof. I don't eat your food, sleep in your house, or take your money. So please, leave before I call security."
"You ungrateful brat!" Peter screamed, shoving Celeste aside. She stumbled and hit the floor with a thud, groaning as she tried to get up.
He charged at me, his arm swinging. I closed my eyes, expecting the slap. My body braced, but nothing came.
When I opened my eyes, Danny was there.
His hand gripped Peter's wrist, unmoving. The tension in his jaw made his whole face look sharper, more dangerous. His other hand curled into a tight fist at his side.
"Let go!" Peter screamed, struggling in Danny's iron grip.
Danny didn't budge. He twisted Peter's arm back and shoved him so hard that he flew backward, crashing into a cluster of tables and chairs. Plates clattered, silverware bounced onto the floor.
"If you know what's good for you," Danny growled, his voice deep and quiet in a way that made every hair on my body stand, "get out of here. Take your wife and don't ever come back."
Peter scrambled to his feet, clearly shaken. He rushed to Celeste, who whimpered as she leaned on him.
"You'll pay for this, Zuria. One way or another," Peter hissed as he dragged her toward the exit. She didn't even look back at me.
I exhaled slowly, still reeling. My knees were weak.
"Thank you," I whispered to Danny.
He shook his head. "Don't thank me. He deserved more than that."
We were about to return to the kitchen when a throat cleared behind us.
We turned to see Mr. Connor standing there, arms crossed over his round belly, expression blank.
"Well?" he asked. "Who's going to clean up this mess?"
Danny stepped forward. "I'll help—"
"No," Mr. Connor cut him off, eyes narrowing. "She'll do it alone. She caused it. She cleans it."
I bit my lip and raised a hand to stop Danny from saying anything. He looked at me, hesitating, but then turned back to the kitchen, muttering something under his breath, his glare burning a hole in the manager's back.
I didn't want Danny to get in trouble because of me.
"Zuria!" Mr. Connor shouted again as he looked around at the now half-empty restaurant. "Is your family going to keep treating this place like a soap opera set?!"
I didn't answer. My hands were already moving, picking up broken plates, wiping tables, setting everything back.
"I run a restaurant, not a family drama show! You scared off half the customers!"
I dared a glance around. He was right—at least half the tables had been abandoned.
"How am I supposed to make up for this lost income, huh? You gonna pay for it out of your pocket?"
I kept my head down and stayed silent, cleaning faster, hoping he would stop.
When the last chair was set right and the floor was clean again, I turned to go back to the kitchen.
"Zuria," he called again, this time quieter. "See me in my office. Now."
My heart stopped.
He said it so low, so calm, that no one around us noticed. But I heard him clearly. My palms turned cold with sweat.
No. Not again.
But I had no choice. Ignoring him would only make things worse.
I walked toward the hallway leading to his office, my stomach twisting with dread. Just as I passed the kitchen door, Danny leaned out, wiping his hands on a towel.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
I forced a laugh. "I just need to get something from the supply closet. I'll be back."
He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything. I gave him a small wave and quickly moved past him before he could ask more questions.
At the office door, I hesitated.
My hand hovered for a moment before I knocked.
"Come in," Mr. Connor called.
I opened the door slowly and stepped inside.
He sat in his chair, legs crossed, fingers tapping on the desk.
"Sit down," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.
I sat, swallowing hard.
He leaned forward, that greasy smile already forming on his lips. "Well… according to the restaurant's rules, any disturbance that drives away customers results in a penalty. You know that, don't you?"
I nodded slowly. "But it wasn't my fault. I tried to get them to leave. I even told them to stop."
"That may be true," he said, resting his chin on his hand. "But someone has to pay for what happened."
I tensed, already expecting what would come next.
"But…" he continued, voice lowering, "you know… I could make an exception. You don't have to suffer the consequences."
He smiled wider, eyes sweeping over me.
"You just need to accept what I offered last week."
I fought not to gag.
I shook my head. "Mr. Connor… I thought I was clear last time. I'm not interested. I'll never be interested. Please don't bring it up again."
His smile vanished instantly, replaced with a scowl.
He reached for the folder on his desk, flipping it open.
"Then you leave me no choice."
He pulled out a paper and slapped it onto the desk.
"Your wages will be cut by thirty dollars a day for the next week."
My jaw clenched.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell that it wasn't fair, that he was punishing me because I said no. But I didn't.
I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
"I understand," I said quietly, standing.
He watched me with narrowed eyes as I turned to leave.
"Don't be late for your shift tomorrow," he said as I opened the door.
I didn't respond.
When I stepped out into the hallway, I leaned against the wall for a second, breathing slowly to calm my racing heart.
I wasn't going to break.
Not now.
Not ever.