A WAITRESS ANSWERED A CALL IN CHINESE IN FRONT OF A MILLIONAIRE... THE NEXT DAY, SHE WAS FIRED...
The clatter of silverware against fine china filled the elegant dining room of Golden Table, Manhattan's newest five-star restaurant. Zoe Sullivan maneuvered between tables with practiced grace, her black uniform blending into the background exactly as management intended. The wealthy patrons barely glanced at her as she refilled water glasses and replaced napkins, her existence acknowledged only when needed.
"Another bottle of the Château Margaux for table twelve," she whispered to André, the sommelier, as she passed the bar. "And Mr. Henderson at table seven says his steak is overcooked."
André rolled his eyes. "Again? That man would send back a steak in heaven."
Zoe managed a tired smile. Days that began at 5 AM caring for her mother before an evening shift left little energy for banter. Her phone vibrated in her pocket—the hospital again. She'd have to check it soon.