Chapter 3: The Cold Truth Revealed
Rose looked up, her watery blue eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, Julian, you came! I didn't want to bother you, dear. I... I was moved here so I wouldn't disturb the other guests. But look, this nice young lady brought me extra bread!"
Julian looked at Emma. He saw her nametag, saw the protective way she stood slightly in front of his mother, and saw the raw exhaustion etched into her face.
"Did you move my mother to the broom closet, Emma?" Julian asked quietly.
"No, Mr. Vance," Emma said firmly, refusing to back down even as Preston glared at her from across the room with murderous intent. "I gave your mother the best table in the house. Mr. Vale moved her."
Julian turned around slowly. The temperature in the restaurant seemed to plunge to sub-zero. "Is that so, Preston?"
Preston looked as if he might faint. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, rushing over to the alcove. "Mr. Vance! I can explain! It was a terrible misunderstanding! The waitress, Emma, she... she didn't check the seating chart properly, and—"
"Don't lie to him," Emma interrupted, her voice ringing out clearly across the silent dining room.
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"Mr. Vale moved her because Mrs. Whitmore complained. She said Miss Rose smelled like 'mothballs and charity bins' and threatened to leave if an old lady remained in her sight. Mr. Vale chose a diamond necklace over human decency."
A collective gasp rippled through the restaurant. Brock Whitmore looked at his wife in sheer horror. Vanessa was trembling so violently she had to grip the edge of the mantelpiece to keep from collapsing.
