Chapter 9 - I ALMOST QUIT SCHOOL FOR MONEY I HAD ALREADY EARNED
Chloe cried when I told her.
Not because of Martin.
Not Serena.
Not even Dad.
Because she remembered the night I sat at our kitchen table saying I might take a semester off.
“We could’ve had that money.”
“Yes.”
“You worked those hours.”
“Yes.”
She became angrier than I did.
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
That was true.
Investigations are slower than outrage.
Redwood hired an independent wage-and-tip accounting firm.
Every active and former employee from the affected properties received notice.
Records would be reconstructed.
Disputed deductions reviewed.
Time edits analyzed.
No one had to stay employed to qualify.
Maria could participate.
Former bussers.
Dishwashers.
Bartenders.
Everyone.
Then Redwood’s new owner, Alexandra Reed, visited Aurelia.
Not for cameras.
No press.
She met employees in the private dining room.
She was forty-two, quiet, and looked exhausted.
“My father built Redwood,” she said.
“That does not make the company innocent because our logo is on the building.”
Good start.
Then:
“I cannot promise every allegation will prove correct. I can promise management will not decide whether complaints against management are valid.”
Even better.
Someone asked whether Serena and Martin were fired.
Alexandra answered carefully.
“They are no longer exercising operational authority while the independent process continues.”
No mob justice.
Records first.
Then she announced immediate changes.
No employee could ever be required to personally cover guest walkouts, customer complaints, routine breakage, or business losses except where law and documented policy clearly permitted—and any deduction required centralized review.
Tip pools would be published by role.
Every recipient had to match an active employee.
Time edits required employee notification.
Then she looked toward me.
“Emma?”
My body tightened.
“Would you tell everyone what happened at Table 42?”
I stood.
“I paid four hundred dollars.”
Whispers.
“Julian told me it was my responsibility because the couple left.”
Then:
“The couple were corporate auditors conducting a controlled test. The bill itself was guaranteed.”
Several employees actually laughed.
Dark laughter.
Then Alexandra said:
“That money should never have left her pocket.”
Not:
We’re sorry you felt uncomfortable.
Clear.
Later she approached me.
“I understand you’re studying accounting.”
“Yes.”
“Would you consider an internship with internal audit?”
I almost said yes immediately.
Then remembered Marisol from another life I hadn’t lived—no, that's different story. Need our own logic.
I stopped myself.
“Would I be getting it because I’m involved in this?”
Alexandra smiled slightly.
“Fair question.”
I asked her to post it competitively.
She did.
Then another applicant emerged.
Chloe.
Not for audit.
She applied for a summer finance assistant role at Redwood corporate.
I stared.
“You hate spreadsheets.”
“I hate being poor more.”
Valid motivation.
Then Dana called.
Martin Kessler’s attorney wanted to negotiate his departure.
But the forensic accountants had found a personal account receiving money from the ghost-tip system.
Balance over four years:
May you like
$612,000.
The largest individual share yet.
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