Chapter 2: The Billionaire’s Unexpected Question
I expected to be fired before midnight.
That was the only thought in my head as I stood backstage in the hotel service hallway.
Not Vincent Moretti.
Not Victoria Langford.
Not the hundreds of people whispering about me.
Only the job.
Because people like me didn’t get dramatic endings.
People like me got consequences.
My manager, Daniel, stood in front of me with his arms crossed.
He looked exhausted.
“Emma.””
I prepared myself.
“Yes?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“I have received seventeen messages from guests asking what happened.””
My stomach dropped.
“I’m sorry.””
“That’s not what I asked.””
I looked down.
“I know.””
Daniel sighed.
“You stopped a billionaire’s guest in the middle of a charity gala.””
“I know.””
“You understand how serious that is?””
“Yes.””
He stared at me.
Then his expression softened slightly.
“Why did you do it?””
I looked toward the ballroom doors.
Because I knew the answer.
Because nobody else moved.
“Because someone needed to.””
Daniel was quiet.
For a moment, I thought he understood.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face changed.
“What?””
I watched him listen.
Then he looked at me.
“Mr. Moretti wants to speak with you.””
My heart stopped.
“Me?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Daniel gave a small, nervous laugh.
“I’m hoping you know more than I do.””
A few minutes later, I was walking back into the ballroom.
It looked completely different.
Earlier, it had been full of laughter and music.
Now, every person seemed to be watching me.
I hated that feeling.
Being invisible had always been easier.
People didn’t judge what they didn’t notice.
Vincent Moretti stood near the large windows overlooking Chicago’s skyline.
The city lights reflected behind him.
He looked like he belonged there.
I looked like someone who had accidentally walked into the wrong room.
When he turned, his expression was calm.
“Emma.””
I stopped.
“Mr. Moretti.””
He glanced at the empty chair beside him.
“Sit.””
I hesitated.
“I’m working.””
“You were working when you protected my mother.””
I sat.
Barely.
Vincent studied me.
“I want to understand something.””
“What?””
“Why?””
I frowned.
“Why what?””
“Why did you risk everything?””
The question surprised me.
Because I expected him to ask about the incident.
Not me.
“I didn’t think about it.””
“That’s not true.””
“It is.””
He shook his head.
“No one holds onto someone’s wrist in front of two hundred witnesses without thinking.””
I looked away.
He was right.
I had thought.
I had thought about every possible disaster.
“I thought about my job,” I admitted.
“And?””
“My family.””
His expression changed slightly.
“Tell me.””
I almost laughed.
“Why?””
“Because I asked.””
There was something about the way he said it.
Not demanding.
Not threatening.
Just certain.
So I answered.
“My father is sick.””
Vincent remained silent.
“He has medical bills. A lot of them.””
“And your mother?””
“My sister.””
“How old?””
“Eighteen.””
“College?””
I nodded.
“She got accepted. She deserves to go.””
Vincent looked at me for a long moment.
“You were willing to lose your job to protect a stranger while supporting two people who depend on you.””
I shrugged.
“She wasn’t a stranger to me in that moment.””
That seemed to affect him.
Before he could respond, another voice interrupted.
“Vincent.””
We both turned.
Victoria stood several feet away.
She looked different now.
Less confident.
More careful.
“May I speak with you privately?””
Vincent didn’t move.
“No.””
Her jaw tightened.
“Mr. Moretti.””
“You almost struck my mother.””
Victoria’s face hardened.
“I was correcting disrespect.””
Emma.
That word made my hands curl into fists.
Correcting.
Like cruelty could be made polite by changing the name.
Vincent looked at her.
“Leave.””
Victoria blinked.
“I’m sorry?””
“You heard me.””
Her face turned red.
“You would remove me over the word of a waitress?””
The room became silent.
Vincent didn’t even look at me.
He looked directly at her.
“No.””
Then he paused.
“I would remove you because of your actions.””
Victoria stared at him.
And for the first time, she looked afraid.
She walked away.
But before she disappeared into the crowd, she looked at me.
Not with anger.
With a promise.
This wasn’t over.
Later that night, I stepped outside the hotel.
The cold Chicago air hit my face.
I needed space.
I needed to breathe.
My phone buzzed.
It was Sophie.
“Emma? Are you okay?””
I smiled sadly.
“Why wouldn’t I be?””
“Because Mom’s friend saw something online.””
My smile faded.
“What?””
“She said people are talking about the waitress who stopped Victoria Langford.””
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
The internet moved faster than reality.
“Sophie…”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, right?””
I looked back at the hotel.
At the glowing windows.
At the world I didn’t belong to.
“No,” I whispered.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned.
Vincent Moretti stood there.
Alone.
“You left without saying goodbye.””
I froze.
“I thought you had important people to talk to.””
“I do.””
He looked at me.
“But I wanted to talk to you first.””
I didn’t know what to say.
Then he held out a small envelope.
“What is that?””
“Something you need.””
I didn’t take it.
“Mr. Moretti, I don’t want money.””
“I didn’t say it was money.””
“Then what is it?””
His expression became serious.
“Your father’s hospital account number.””
My heart stopped.
“How do you know about that?””
Vincent didn’t answer immediately.
And that scared me.
Because before he could explain, my phone rang.
A hospital number appeared on the screen.
I answered.
“Hello?””
The voice on the other end was rushed.
“Is this Emma Carter?””
“Yes.””
“This is St. Catherine Medical Center. We need you to come immediately.””
My blood turned cold.
“What happened?””
A pause.
Then:
“Your father has been asking for you.””
May you like
I looked at Vincent.
And somehow, I knew the night had just become even more complicated.
