Chapter 4 - The Aftermath in the BreakroomDown in the subterranean depths of the Larkmore Grand, far away from the crystal chandeliers and marble floors, the employee breakroom smelled of burnt coffee, industrial cleaner, and shattered dreams.
Thea sat on a cracked vinyl chair, holding an ice pack against her stinging cheek. The red mark of Avalene’s hand was still vividly stamped across her skin, burning hot and throbbing in time with her pulse.
Hazel pushed open the heavy metal door, carrying two styrofoam cups of lukewarm tap water. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with shock.
“Thea... are you out of your mind?” Hazel whispered, sliding onto the bench across from her. “You talked back to the Vardens! You walked out on a shift!”
“What else was I supposed to do, Hazel?” Thea sighed, pressing the ice pack tighter. “Stand there and let some entitled bride treat me like a punching bag while Merrick cheered her on?”
“You’re going to be blacklisted from every hotel and restaurant in the city,” Hazel said, wringing her hands. “Merrick is already telling management that you assaulted a guest and destroyed company property.”
“Let him,” Thea said bitterly. “I was sick of that place anyway. The stolen tips, the constant screaming, the way they look at us like we’re inventory. I’m done.”
Before Hazel could respond, the heavy metal door swung open again.
It wasn't Merrick.
It was Marcus Vance, the head of hotel security—a massive, no-nonsense man who had worked at the Larkmore for fifteen years. Behind him stood an immaculately dressed corporate lawyer holding a leather briefcase.
Thea and Hazel both stood up instantly, bracing for the worst.
“Thea Tierney?” Marcus asked, his deep voice echoing in the small room.
“Yes?” Thea replied cautiously, stepping in front of Hazel.
Marcus didn't look angry. In fact, for the first time since Thea had known him, there was a faint, almost respectful nod in his posture. He stepped aside, and a familiar figure was wheeled through the doorway.
Rowena Varden.
The elderly woman looked around the drab, fluorescent-lit breakroom with mild distaste before her sharp eyes landed on Thea.
“I told you not to go too far, child,” Rowena said, a faint smile touching her lips.
Thea stared in astonishment. “Mrs... Mrs. Varden? What are you doing down here?”
“Please, call me Rowena. Or at least, call me something other than 'ma'am' like I’m a relic in a museum.” Rowena rolled her chair closer, stopping right in front of Thea. She reached out, gently touching the edge of the ice pack on Thea’s cheek. “Does it hurt?”
“A little,” Thea admitted, her defenses slowly lowering. “What is this about? Are you here to have me arrested for ruining your granddaughter-in-law’s wedding?”
Rowena let out a dry, barking laugh. “My former granddaughter-in-law, thank goodness. And no, Thea. I am here to offer you a job.”
Hazel’s jaw dropped. Thea stared blankly. “A job? You own the hotel, and you want to hire a fired waitress?”
“Not a waitress,” Rowena corrected smoothly. “An executive assistant. Starting tomorrow morning at nine o’clock in the corporate penthouse.”
Thea shook her head, backing away a step. “I don't know the first thing about corporate administration. I’m a nursing student. I work here because I need tuition money.”
“And how much is your tuition?” Rowena asked calmly.
“That’s none of your bu—”
“Tell me, Thea.”
Thea hesitated, glancing at Hazel before looking back into Rowena’s unyielding eyes. “Forty-two thousand dollars for the full program. Books, clinical fees, everything.”
Rowena nodded once, signaling to the lawyer standing behind her. The lawyer immediately stepped forward, pulling a pre-printed document from his briefcase and laying it on the battered breakroom table alongside a gold fountain pen.
“That document,” Rowena said, “is an employment contract. Base salary: one hundred and twenty thousand dollars a year, with full medical benefits and tuition coverage paid in full, upfront, as a signing bonus.”
The breakroom fell into a suffocating silence. Hazel made a choking sound, grabbing the edge of the table to steady herself.
Thea stared at the paper as if it were written in ancient Greek. “One hundred and twenty thousand? Tuition paid? Why? You don’t even know me.”
“I know what I need to know,” Rowena said, her voice dropping its playful edge, turning deadly serious. “For twenty years, people in this building have lied to me, catered to my money, and treated everyone beneath them like dirt while smiling to my face. Tonight, a girl I never met—a girl everyone else ignored—risked her own safety to save my life. And when she was assaulted for it, she didn’t cower. She stood her ground.”
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Rowena reached out, tapping her finger gently against the contract.
“I don’t need a servant, Thea. I need someone with a spine of steel who knows the difference between a human being and a piece of furniture. Will you help me clean house?”
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