Trent did not resign before lunch.
At twelve fifteen, he asked for the list.
Nora gave him fourteen names.
He stared at the page.
“Fourteen?”
“That’s what the records show.”
“Some of these people don’t work here anymore.”
“You still know how to reach them.”
“You want me to call former employees and apologize?”
“In person where possible. Video call if they’re out of state.”
“This is humiliating.”
Nora looked at him.
“Yes.”
The first apology happened that afternoon.
A bartender came into Trent’s office with her arms folded.
Nora stayed outside.
The door remained open.
Trent read from the card Nora had given him.
“I removed your Saturday shifts after you reported that a guest put his hands on you without permission. I described the change as an availability adjustment. That was wrong.”
The bartender said nothing.
Trent swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him for a long time.
Then she walked out.
No forgiveness.
No speech.
Just a closed door behind her.
Trent stared after her.
“One,” Nora said.
By Monday, he had reached four.
By Wednesday, six.
The apologies did not become easier.
One former server laughed.
One cried.
One asked Trent why he had made her believe she was bad at her job.
He had no answer.
Nora did not give him one.
Bianca watched all of it from the floor.
She had her Friday and Saturday shifts back, along with every hour removed from her schedule.
But she still flinched whenever Trent called her name.
On Thursday, Nora asked her to come upstairs.
Bianca entered the fourth-floor office slowly.
She had never been there before.
“So this is where you actually work.”
“Sometimes.”
Bianca looked through the glass wall toward the city.
“This is a lot nicer than the break room.”
“It has fewer broken chairs.”
“That too.”
Nora handed her a folder.
“What’s this?”
“Your employee file.”
Bianca’s smile disappeared.
“Am I in trouble again?”
“No.”
She opened it.
Inside were copies of two applications for the company’s management-development program.
Both had been denied.
Bianca looked up.
“I applied last year.”
“I know.”
“I was told I didn’t have enough supervisory potential.”
Nora tapped the second page.
Trent’s recommendation sat at the bottom.
Not suitable for leadership. Too emotionally reactive to guest pressure.
Bianca read it twice.
Her mouth tightened.
“He wrote this after a customer threw a plate.”
“I saw the incident report.”
“I didn’t throw it back.”
“I know.”
Bianca gave a short laugh with no humor in it.
“What did he want? For me to thank the guy?”
Nora turned another page.
Bianca had completed every optional training module in the company system.
Scheduling.
Inventory.
Conflict resolution.
Payroll basics.
Food-safety management.
“You were trying to move up.”
“For two years.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Bianca closed the folder.
“Because until last week, I thought you were a waitress.”
Nora deserved that.
She smiled.
“Fair.”
Bianca looked at the office around them.
“What happens when the thirty days are over?”
“That depends on Trent.”
“And after Trent?”
“That depends on us.”
Bianca studied her.
Nora did not explain.
Not yet.
At the end of the second week, Trent completed apology number ten.
He looked exhausted.
The perfect jackets were gone.
The smile he used for VIP tables had disappeared.
He carried the list folded in his pocket.
Friday morning, he came to Nora’s office.
“I need the next name.”
Nora opened the spreadsheet.
“You already have it.”
“No. Number eleven is blank on my copy.”
Nora checked.
He was right.
She printed a new page.
Trent reached for it.
Then stopped.
The eleventh line read:
BIANCA REYES.
His hand remained in the air.
Downstairs, the lunch shift was beginning.
Nora slid the page toward him.
“Three o’clock,” she said.
Trent looked at the name again.
For the first time since the meeting, he whispered, “She’s not going to forgive me.”
