Chapter 3: A Harsh Verdict
The morning after the gala was anything but peaceful for Danielle. She had hardly slept, tormented by the embarrassing image of shattered glass and spilled wine under the judgmental stares of the elite. But even her sleepless night hadn't prepared her for the chaos that awaited her at work.
"Danielle!"
The sharp call of her manager, Carla, echoed through the breakroom, where Danielle had been anxiously tying her apron. Carla's heels clicked against the tiles, each step sounding like a warning bell.
"Yes, ma'am?" Danielle replied, her hands shaking.
Carla's face was a mix of anger and disappointment, her lips pressed into a thin line. "We need to talk. Now."
Danielle followed her manager into the back office, her stomach twisting in knots. Carla slammed the door behind them and threw a copy of the morning paper onto the desk.
There it was, in bold letters: A Glaring Faux Pas at the Wright Gala. Below the headline was a photo of Ethan Wright, his white shirt stained red, his expression unreadable as guests looked on.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Carla spat, her voice dangerously low. "The Wright family has been one of our biggest clients for years. And because of your mistake, they've cut our funding for future events. Effective immediately."
Danielle felt her throat tighten. "I—I didn't mean to—"
Carla interrupted her with a sharp wave of her hand. "Intentions don't matter, Danielle. Results do. And now, because of you, the company is losing money."
Danielle fought back tears. "Please, give me another chance. I'll work extra shifts, I'll do anything—"
"It's not up to me," Carla replied coldly. "The Wrights specifically mentioned your 'incompetence' in their feedback. The board has already made their decision. You're fired."
The words struck Danielle like a physical blow. She clutched the edge of the desk, her vision blurring. "Fired? But I need this job—I have bills to pay, a family to support—"
Carla sighed, her tone softening a bit. "I'm sorry, Danielle. But my hands are tied."
Danielle walked home in a daze, the biting January wind cutting through her thin coat. Her mind raced with the implications. Her younger brother, Jeremy, needed new school supplies. Her father's medical bills were piling up again. And her mother—always trying to keep the family together—would be heartbroken when she found out.
By the time Danielle reached their small apartment, her frustration had begun to boil over. Not just at Carla, or even the Wright family, but at the entire world of wealth and privilege. How could one mistake, one spilled drink, ruin her entire life?
"Hey, Dani!" Jeremy greeted her with a smile as she walked in, but it quickly faded when he noticed her expression. "What's wrong?"
Danielle forced a smile. "Nothing, kiddo. Just a rough day at work."
Her mother appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron. "Danielle, is everything okay? You're home early."
Danielle opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she shook her head, hurried to her room, and closed the door behind her.
Meanwhile, at the Wright family's corporate headquarters, Ethan sat in his office, staring at his laptop screen. The incident from the gala had been blown out of proportion, and he was starting to regret how it had been handled. Cutting ties with the catering company had been his father's decision, but Ethan couldn't shake the image of Danielle's panicked face.
There had been something in her eyes—fear, humiliation, and determination—that lingered with him long after the event ended.
"Ethan," Richard's voice came through the intercom, breaking his thoughts. "Come to my office."
Ethan made his way to the executive suite, where his father was seated behind a massive oak desk.
"We need to discuss the fallout from the gala," Richard said without preamble. "I trust you've seen the headlines."
"Yes, I have," Ethan replied evenly. "And I think cutting off the catering company was too harsh."
Richard raised an eyebrow. "Too harsh? They embarrassed our family in front of investors, Ethan. We had to make an example."
Ethan clenched his fists but kept his tone measured. "And what about the people who worked there? That decision didn't just affect the company—it affected lives."
Richard's gaze sharpened. "This is business, not charity. You need to start thinking like a CEO."
Ethan said nothing, but as he left his father's office, his resolve hardened. He didn't know why he felt compelled to find Danielle again, but he knew this: he wasn't done with her story yet.
Danielle sat at the small desk in her room, staring at a stack of unpaid bills. Her family needed her, and she had no idea what to do next. But one thing was certain: she wouldn't let herself be crushed by the Wrights or anyone else.
As she scribbled ideas for potential jobs on a piece of paper, her phone buzzed. An unknown number. Hesitant, she answered.
"Hello?"
"Danielle?" The voice on the other end was deep, smooth, and unmistakably familiar. "It's Ethan Wright."
Her grip tightened on the phone. "What do you want?"
There was a pause before he replied. "I think we need to talk."