Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN AT TABLE EIGHTEEN
Vincent Moretti did not raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
The moment his eyes settled on his mother, then on the badge trembling between my fingers, every manager in The Magnolia Room seemed to forget how to breathe.
“Mother.”
The elderly woman smiled.
“Hello, Vincent.”
He crossed the dining room slowly.
Garrett Sloan stepped forward.
“Mr. Moretti, there was a misunderstanding.”
Vincent stopped.
“What misunderstanding?”
Garrett swallowed.
“This employee became insubordinate.”
Vincent looked at me.
“What did she do?”
Before I could answer, his mother spoke.
“She refused to remove me from my table because Garrett decided my coat looked too cheap for the room.”
Vincent's face changed.
Not dramatically.
That was worse.
He turned toward Garrett.
“Did you fire her for that?”
Garrett looked desperate.
“Sir, I didn't know who she was.”
Vincent's voice became almost gentle.
“That's your defense?”
Silence.
He glanced around the restaurant.
“Would humiliating her have been acceptable if she weren't my mother?”
Nobody answered.
My heart pounded.
Then Vincent looked at me.
“Your name?”
“Hannah Reed.”
His gaze dropped to the red mark on my wrist from where Garrett had grabbed my arm earlier.
His jaw tightened.
“Did he touch you?”
Garrett immediately said, “Mr. Moretti—”
“I asked her.”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
Vincent turned toward one of the men behind him.
“Preserve every camera recording from tonight. No one deletes anything.”
Then he faced Garrett.
“You're suspended pending review.”
Garrett went pale.
“You can't—”
“I just did.”
The room remained silent.
Vincent's mother reached for my hand.
“You were willing to lose your job for a stranger.”
I smiled weakly.
“You weren't doing anything wrong.”
She studied me.
“What's your mother's name?”
The question surprised me.
“Diane.”
Her expression changed.
“Diane Reed?”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes.”
The old woman's fingers went cold around mine.
Vincent noticed.
“Mother?”
She looked toward him.
Then back at me.
“Your father was Michael Reed?”
I stopped breathing.
“How do you know my father?”
She released my hand slowly.
Because Michael Reed had been dead for nine years.
At least, that was what I believed.
The old woman whispered:
“Your father saved my son's life.”
Vincent went completely still.
May you like
Then his mother added something that made my knees weaken.
“And three days before Michael died, he told me someone inside the Moretti family was going to kill him.”
