Zuria
The car ride was quiet, except for the hushed conversation between Danny and Mr. Samuels. Danny leaned forward in the backseat, confidently outlining their strategy while Mr. Samuels nodded occasionally, eyes fixed on the road.
I was seated beside Danny, my heart pounding in my chest like it wanted out. I'd barely heard a word of their discussion since we left the coffee shop. Every nerve in my body was on high alert. No matter how many times Danny promised it would work out, a voice in my head kept screaming that it might not. Mr. Connor had power—dangerous, unchecked power—and what if everyone was too afraid to speak out?
I glanced at Mr. Samuels through the rearview mirror. His jaw was clenched, his brows furrowed with what looked like a mix of concentration and barely restrained rage. The man was terrifying—stern, quiet, but commanding. If this went badly, I knew Danny and I wouldn't stand a chance against Mr. Connor's influence. The thought made my stomach churn.
"We're almost there," Mr. Samuels said, breaking the tense silence.
I looked out the window. He was right—the familiar green awning of the restaurant was just up ahead.
As the car slowed to a stop, I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. Danny was already opening the door before the vehicle came to a full halt.
"Stay behind us," he said to me softly, his hand briefly brushing mine for reassurance. "Just let it play out."
I nodded even though fear still gripped me. I wasn't sure I could let it play out anymore. I wasn't sure I could stay silent.
The restaurant was closed to customers, but a few staff members were already moving around inside, prepping for the day. The bell over the door jingled loudly as we entered, turning every head in the room.
The room froze.
Mr. Samuels walked in first, his presence commanding. Danny and I followed closely behind, tension radiating off us like heat. Conversations ceased. A dishwasher stopped mid-scrub. A waitress nearly dropped a plate. I could see recognition flash in their eyes—everyone here knew who Mr. Samuels was. Even if I didn't before, I understood now: he wasn't just an investor or a manager.
He was the authority.
A young man near the kitchen door instinctively turned to head toward the back, no doubt to alert Mr. Connor, but Mr. Samuels raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
"Let's not disturb him just yet," Mr. Samuels said calmly, stepping closer to the swinging kitchen doors.
Danny and I followed, close behind.
From the kitchen, Mr. Connor's voice bellowed, louder than the clatter of pans. "Who the hell do you think you are?! I own this place! I can fire whoever I want, and no one can stop me! You hear me, Allison? I've already cut your pay, don't make me cut it again!"
I could feel Mr. Samuels tensing beside me. His fists curled at his sides, and his jaw tightened further. He didn't speak, but the anger rolling off him was almost suffocating.
Then the doors burst open.
Mr. Connor stormed into the dining area, face red and glistening with sweat. He froze mid-step when he saw us standing there. His mouth hung open slightly, and his eyes darted from me to Danny to Mr. Samuels.
"Mr. Samuels!" he exclaimed, voice suddenly an octave higher. "You—you didn't tell me you were coming today."
He attempted a smile, but it trembled at the corners. "I—I was just dealing with a minor staffing issue. Nothing serious."
Mr. Samuels didn't smile. His voice, though soft, was ice-cold. "Is that so?"
"Of course, sir. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?"
The contrast between this simpering tone and the one he had used moments ago was almost laughable. I almost did laugh—if I hadn't been so scared.
"Mr. Connor," Mr. Samuels began slowly, "I've been hearing some disturbing things. About how you've been running this restaurant."
"Sir, whatever you've heard is false. Rumors. People stirring up trouble. I'd never—"
"Cutting employee wages?" Mr. Samuels interrupted. "Firing people without report? And still accepting their wages from me weekly?"
Mr. Connor's face blanched.
"No, no, sir," he said quickly. "Absolutely not. I would never do something like that. Ask anyone here!"
He swept his hand toward the stunned employees.
Mr. Samuels raised an eyebrow. "This young man here says otherwise." He gestured toward Danny. "He claims you've not only been skimming from wages but abusing your staff."
"That's a lie!" Mr. Connor snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Danny. "He attacked me—physically assaulted me—because I fired him and his girlfriend. They're bitter. They're trying to bring me down."
Mr. Samuels turned to Danny and me. "Is that true? Did you hit him?"
Danny nodded. "I did. And I don't regret it."
Mr. Connor let out a triumphant snort. "See?"
"But," Danny continued, "it wasn't unprovoked. He was harassing Zuria."
Mr. Samuels turned toward me. "Is that true?"
I hesitated. The weight of every gaze in the room settled on my shoulders. Mr. Connor looked at me, and I saw the same threat in his eyes that I'd seen that first day in his office. But I also saw something else—fear.
I took a breath.
"Yes," I said, my voice steady. "It's true."
I saw Danny's head whip toward me in surprise, but I kept going.
"A few weeks ago, Mr. Connor called me into his office. He said he could help me out with my housing situation since he knew I was staying in a motel. I was so relieved—I thought someone finally cared. But then he said he'd only help me if I became his… his sex toy."
Gasps echoed from the staff around us.
"I refused. I told him no. He said I'd regret it. Then, when my uncle and aunt caused a scene here one day, he used that as an excuse to cut my pay. He told me I had two options—agree to sleep with him or accept a wage cut."
I swallowed hard.
"When I still refused, he slashed my paycheck in half. Danny found out. He confronted him, and when Mr. Connor blamed everything on me—said I'd seduced him—Danny snapped."
I looked around the room.
"You all saw it. You know it's true."
A heavy silence filled the restaurant. Even the sound of the refrigerator in the back seemed deafening now.
Mr. Samuels spoke again, louder this time. "I want every employee here to listen closely. I'm asking for the truth—only the truth. Has Mr. Connor done the things they've accused him of? Have you had your pay cut unfairly? Were you mistreated? Fired without reason?"
No one moved.
"I'm not asking for opinions. I'm asking for facts," Mr. Samuels said. "And I will protect every one of you who speaks up. But if you lie to me—on his behalf or anyone else's—you'll be standing in front of a judge. Do I make myself clear?"
Still, no one stepped forward.
My stomach twisted. I looked around, desperately searching for a friendly face, for someone who would step up and confirm what we'd said. But all I saw was avoidance—eyes glued to the floor, to their shoes, to anything but us.
Danny looked at me, his confidence slipping. The hope that had shone in his eyes now flickered uncertainly. I saw him take a small step toward me, protective as always, but the doubt had crept in.
They weren't going to say a word.
My throat tightened. After everything we risked, they were too scared to speak. The betrayal stung deeper than I expected.
"How could they do this to us?" I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.
Danny didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
The silence was answer enough.