Nora called Arthur from the alley behind the restaurant.
“What video?”
Her grandfather did not answer immediately.
Instead, he said, “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Nora.”
“My knees are sore. That’s it.”
Arthur breathed out.
She could picture him at home, reading glasses low on his nose, one hand wrapped around a cup of tea he had forgotten to drink.
“The clip has been reposted everywhere,” he said. “Someone tagged the restaurant.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough that three board members called me before dessert.”
Nora leaned against the brick wall.
“Good.”
Arthur was silent.
Then he laughed once.
“That is exactly the wrong answer.”
“It’s the first honest report we’ve gotten from this building in months.”
“You have enough now.”
“No.”
“Nora, the man made you kneel.”
“And tomorrow he’ll do something to somebody who can’t leave.”
That ended the argument.
Arthur knew why she had taken the shift under her first name and no title. Employee complaints had been rising while Trent’s regional reports kept improving. Turnover disappeared into neat percentages. Schedule disputes became “availability changes.” Complaints about humiliation were marked “coaching completed.”
Nora wanted to know what the numbers were hiding.
Now she did.
At eleven the next morning, she returned in the same black uniform.
Trent was already waiting.
His office door was open.
“Inside.”
Nora entered.
He shut the door.
A printed screenshot of the video lay on his desk.
Her own face was frozen halfway up from the floor.
“You know about this?”
“Yes.”
“Did you post it?”
“No.”
“Did Bianca?”
“I don’t know.”
Trent tapped the paper.
“This location employs eighty-three people. One stupid video can affect every one of them.”
Nora looked at the screenshot.
“One stupid incident can too.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’re on probation.”
“I’ve worked here six days.”
“Exactly.”
He slid a form toward her.
“Sign.”
Nora read it.
Failure to follow guest recovery protocol.
Disrespect toward supervisory staff.
Creating a disruptive service environment.
Nothing about the customer spilling wine on purpose.
Nothing about kneeling.
Nothing about Bianca losing two shifts.
Nora put the paper down.
“I’d like a copy.”
“You get a copy after you sign.”
“I’d like one before.”
Trent leaned back.
“You think you know labor law now?”
“No.”
That was true.
She knew the company’s lawyers did.
Trent pulled the form away.
“Fine. I’ll email it.”
Nora stood.
“One more thing.”
He opened his schedule.
“Bianca’s Friday and Saturday shifts. Who got them?”
“Not your concern.”
“I thought schedules were posted two weeks in advance.”
“They are.”
“Then changing hers should leave a record.”
His expression changed for less than a second.
Nora saw it.
“Get to work.”
At lunch, Bianca appeared with swollen eyes and no makeup.
“My Saturday shift is gone from the app,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I needed that.”
Nora kept folding napkins.
“Did Trent tell you who has it?”
“No. Nobody has it.”
Nora stopped.
“What?”
Bianca showed her phone.
The Saturday floor plan had one fewer server than usual.
The shift had not been reassigned.
It had simply vanished.
Nora thought of the quarterly reports.
Labor efficiency had improved twelve percent under Trent.
Employee complaints had fallen.
Turnover had fallen.
Guest spending had risen.
Numbers that had impressed the board.
Numbers that now looked different.
At three, Trent walked past the service station carrying a stack of folders.
One slipped from the bottom and hit the floor.
Nora bent to help.
He snatched it up too late.
She had already read the label.
QUARTERLY REVIEW — FLOOR DISCIPLINE / LABOR EFFICIENCY
Trent tucked the folder beneath his arm.
“You should worry less about management.”
Nora met his eyes.
“Why?”
“Because you may not be here after Friday.”
He walked away.
Bianca came up beside her.
“What did he mean?”
Nora watched the office door close.
“I think,” she said, “he’s planning to fire me first.”
