Chapter 3 - The Aftermath of Defiance
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Nevaeh pushed through the swinging brass doors of the kitchen, the adrenaline finally catching up to her. Her hands shook as she grabbed a clean towel from the prep station and pressed it against her soaking, freezing chest.
She had just signed her own death warrant. In Chicago, humiliating a Perry in public wasn't just a fireable offense; it was a physical danger.
Less than a minute later, the kitchen doors flew open. Gerard marched in, his face a mixture of absolute terror and unrestrained fury.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Gerard hissed, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her toward the back office. “Do you have any idea what you just did? You insulted the Perry family! In my dining room!”
“She poured ice water on me, Gerard,” Nevaeh shot back, pulling her arm out of his grasp.
“I don't care if she set you on fire! You smile and you apologize! You are fired, Nevaeh. You are done in this city. Get your things and get out the back door before they decide to send one of their men into my kitchen.”
Out in the main dining room, the suffocating tension had not lifted. Stella had collapsed into her chair, breathing heavily, tears of rage ruining her expensive makeup.
Leandro ignored his sister entirely. He reached across the table with slow, deliberate grace. He picked up the damp fifty-dollar bill Nevaeh had left on the fish, folded it twice with long, scarred fingers, and slipped it into the breast pocket of his bespoke charcoal suit.
Then he looked toward the kitchen doors.
He wasn't angry. He was fascinated. He had spent his entire life surrounded by yes-men, terrified sycophants, and women who agreed with everything he said. A waitress earning minimum wage had just looked his rabid dog of a sister in the eye and dismantled her soul without raising her voice.
Leandro lifted one finger.
Gerard, having just rushed back onto the floor, practically tripped over his own feet to reach the table.
“Mr. Perry, I am so incredibly sorry. She has been terminated immediately. Her behavior was—”
“Bring me Nevaeh Brown’s employment file,” Leandro interrupted, his voice a low, lethal hum.
May you like
Gerard swallowed hard, suddenly much more afraid of the man asking quietly than the woman who had been screaming.
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
