Danny
I dragged Zuria along the sidewalk, her pace slow and reluctant as we neared the apartment building. She kept throwing glances over her shoulder, like she expected the ground to open up and swallow her for what we were about to do.
"Danny, I really don't think this is a good idea," she muttered for the tenth time, tugging her hand out of my grip.
I turned, frustration rising, but I held it in. Her face was pale. I could see the fear behind her eyes.
"We can't let him get away with it, Zuria," I said firmly. "Mr. Connor's done too much. This… this is the least we can do."
Her arms crossed over her chest, and she leaned against the cold brick wall of the building. "I know what he did. But reporting him to his boss? What if Mr. Samuels doesn't believe us? What if he sides with Connor? You saw the way he runs that place. They all stick together."
I shook my head. "Not everyone's like Connor. Mr. Samuels might not be around much, but I've watched him. He seems decent. I've been watching his schedule too. He goes out around this time every day, always alone. He's about to come out that door any second now."
Zuria didn't say anything. She looked away, eyes darting around like she wanted to vanish. I stepped closer.
"I'm not doing this just to stir trouble," I said more gently. "I'm doing this for you. For everyone. You remember how he cut your wages to nothing? How he called you into his office and made you cry? You think he'll stop at just that?"
She looked down at her shoes.
"I don't want to be a victim anymore, Zuria. And I sure as hell don't want you to be one either."
"I just…" She exhaled shakily. "I'm scared."
"I know." I touched her shoulder. "But you're not alone anymore."
She met my eyes, and for a second, I saw the girl behind the silence. The one trying to stay afloat in a world that kept pushing her under.
The building's front door opened just then. A tall man in his mid-fifties stepped out, keys jingling in his hand. I recognized him immediately—neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, pressed shirt, expensive watch. Mr. Samuels.
"There," I whispered. "That's him."
Zuria stiffened beside me. I gave her a reassuring nod and stepped forward quickly, waving.
"Excuse me, Mr. Samuels? Can we talk to you for a moment?"
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he took us in.
"Do I know either of you?" he asked, glancing between us.
"You might not," I said, offering a polite smile. "You don't come around the restaurant much."
"Restaurant?" he repeated, frowning.
"Yes, sir. The one on Downs Street. We used to work there. Under Mr. Connor."
His brows rose. "Used to?"
"He fired us," I said plainly. "About a week ago."
"And I wasn't informed of this… why?" he muttered, half to himself.
"That's one of the things we wanted to talk to you about," I said. "If you have a few minutes. We don't want to cause trouble—we just think you should know what's been going on."
He looked at us thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Alright. Come with me. We'll go somewhere we can talk."
We followed him across the street to the parking lot. Zuria lagged behind, still uneasy.
Once inside his car—me up front, Zuria in the back—Mr. Samuels drove us to a quiet café a few blocks away. The entire ride, Zuria fidgeted in her seat, twisting her fingers, barely breathing.
Inside the café, we sat in a booth near the window. Mr. Samuels motioned for the waitress, asked us to order, then leaned back in his chair and studied us closely.
"Let's start with names," he said. "I like to know who I'm talking to."
"Danny Shelton," I said. "I worked as an assistant chef in the kitchen."
He nodded and turned his attention to Zuria.
She hesitated before speaking. "Zuria Stone," she said softly. "I was… front of house. I only worked there a few weeks."
"And you're here to tell me something about Connor?" Mr. Samuels asked, folding his hands.
"Yes," I said. "A lot, actually."
He motioned for me to go on.
"For starters, he verbally abuses the staff. Yelling for no reason, calling people names, talking down to everyone—especially the younger workers."
Mr. Samuels' brow furrowed.
"He also docks people's pay," I added. "Over the smallest things. One late plate, one broken glass, and suddenly your paycheck's slashed in half. Some weeks we weren't even making minimum wage."
"He's been doing this consistently?" Mr. Samuels asked sharply.
"Yes," I replied. "And it's not just pay. He fires people constantly. One mistake and you're out. But he never replaces them, so the rest of us are stuck doing triple the work."
Zuria stared at the table. Her knuckles were white.
"And then…" I hesitated. My mouth went dry. "There's the worst of it."
I glanced back at Zuria. She gave the faintest shake of her head, but I pressed on.
"He targets young women. Calls them into his office. Offers to 'take care of them' if they do certain… favors for him. And when they say no, he singles them out. Makes their lives miserable. Until they quit."
Mr. Samuels stared at me. "Are you saying he's—?"
"Yes," I said flatly. "Sexual coercion. Manipulation. Abuse of power."
His face went pale. He turned to Zuria.
"Is that true, Miss Stone?"
Zuria's shoulders rose and fell. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
"It's all true," she said quietly. "Every word."
"And I'm just hearing about this now?" Mr. Samuels ran a hand through his hair, visibly shaken. "Why didn't anyone report this?"
"You're never around," I said. "And Connor made sure no one knew where to find you. He hides your contact info. Says it's 'chain of command.'"
Mr. Samuels clenched his jaw. "He was supposed to run things professionally. I trusted him."
"He betrayed that trust," I said. "And a lot of people got hurt because of it."
He didn't respond for a long moment. He looked out the window, lips pressed in a tight line. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and deliberate.
"We're going back to the restaurant. Right now."
Zuria flinched. "What?"
"We're going to confront him," Mr. Samuels said, pushing back from the table. "If what you're saying is true, I won't just fire him. I'll involve the police."
"Sir," I said quickly, "if we walk in and accuse him outright, he might deny it all. Say we're lying out of revenge."
"He can try," Mr. Samuels said darkly. "But I'm not stupid. I know how to read people. And if others back up your story—"
"They will," I assured him. "I've already talked to a few. They're ready to speak if you ask them."
"Good." He stood. "Let's not waste time."
We followed him out of the café, and as we walked toward the car, Zuria touched my arm.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"I know," I said. "But you're doing the right thing."
She nodded slowly. "I just hope it's enough."
I glanced up at the sky, the afternoon sun hidden behind thick clouds. It felt like something was shifting—like we were finally pulling the curtain back on a play that had gone on too long.
"Let's burn it all down," I said quietly.
Zuria managed a small, fierce smile.
And we kept walking.