Part 2: “I apologize,” Maya said. “It was an accident. I can have the restaurant cover the cleaning.”

“The restaurant?” Chloe laughed once, sharply. “You think dry cleaning fixes this? This blouse costs more than you make in six months.”

Maya kept her voice level. “I understand you’re upset.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Chloe’s face changed.

There were women who cried when embarrassed, women who shouted, women who stormed out. Chloe Harrington did not believe embarrassment should ever belong to her. If shame entered a room, someone beneath her had to carry it.

“You understand?” Chloe said. “You spilled water on me and now you’re going to stand there like you have dignity?”

The maître d’, Mr. Rousseau, hurried across the carpet, his face pale.

“Miss Harrington,” he whispered, “please allow us to make this right.”

Chloe ignored him. Her eyes stayed on Maya.

“Apologize properly.”

Maya’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “I’m very sorry.”

“No,” Chloe said. “Not like that.”

Daniel’s gaze flicked from Chloe to Maya. He watched the waitress’s hands. Steady. Too steady. Her shoulders were squared beneath the uniform. Her breathing was controlled. Most people trembled when power turned on them.

Maya did not tremble.

She looked tired of surviving.

“I said I’m sorry,” Maya repeated.

Chloe smiled without warmth. “You people always think you can fake manners.”

Then her hand came up…

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