Chapter Six
843 Words
The table settings were perfect.
Each charger plate gleamed under the soft amber lighting, flanked by crystal glasses and gold-trimmed name cards. The air buzzed with low chatter and clinking silver — the kind of wealth that didn't show off, because it never had to.
Leah smoothed the last napkin fold, her fingers steady even though her heart wasn't.
“Brooks,” Rebecca called from across the room, her voice low but tight. Keep moving. You’re not part of the scenery.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She made her way toward the corner bar, where the assistant bartender was uncorking a bottle of wine that probably cost more than her last month’s rent. A part of her wanted to disappear into the walls, to not exist in this room filled with people whose lives would never touch hers.
Except one.
She felt him before she saw him.
Dominic entered without fanfare, his presence somehow louder than the room’s conversations. He wasn’t the center of attention, but people shifted slightly as he passed — like he bent gravity just by walking.
He moved toward a cluster of investors near the fireplace, offering quiet greetings, hands, and a brief handshake. Calm. Controlled. The kind of man who never needed to raise his voice.
He didn’t glance her way.
Not once.
And that was exactly what Leah wanted.
And exactly what hurt.
“Top off Table Six,” Rebecca said, handing Leah a silver wine tray.
Leah moved gracefully from table to table, keeping her head down and smiling politely. She refilled her glasses, retrieved empty plates, and nodded at compliments she didn’t care to absorb.
Dominic stood at the edge of it all — aloof, composed, answering questions with minimal charm and absolute precision.
As if this entire evening was an obligation. A transaction.
Leah didn’t linger near him.
She didn’t let her eyes rest on him for too long.
She didn’t trust herself either.
Across the room, Jess was watching.
Every time Leah turned from the table, Jess’s gaze found her. Not harsh. Not obvious. But consistent.
Measured.
Jess stood beside a board member from New York, laughing politely at something Leah couldn’t hear, while never quite looking away.
Leah forced herself to keep her smile even.
She’d dealt with suspicion before. She could do it again.
Just a few more hours.
Near the end of the dinner, Leah ducked into the hallway near the kitchen, balancing a tray of used wine glasses. She exhaled slowly, letting the tension ease from her spine.
“Long night?”
The voice came from behind her.
A guest. A man in his sixties. Polished, with an expensive watch and eyes that had seen too much.
Leah straightened. “Just part of the job, sir.”
He gave a kind smile. “Efficient. Quiet. I like that.”
“Thank you.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You from Asheville?”
“No, sir. Raleigh.”
His smile faded for just a second.
“Huh,” he murmured. “You remind me of someone." But I suppose that was a different story, long time ago.”
Leah stiffened. “I doubt it was me.”
“Mm. "Probably not.” He nodded, tipping his glass to her. “You take care, miss.”
She smiled thinly, watched him walk away, and only let her breath out when he was gone.
By midnight, the dining room was cleared and guests were beginning to leave.
Leah moved quietly along the back hallway with Rebecca, carrying linens to be laundered.
“Not bad,” Rebecca muttered. “You didn’t spill wine on anyone.”
“Wasn’t planning to.”
Rebecca paused at the stairwell. “Don’t get comfortable.”
Leah turned. “Excuse me?”
“Just because Mr. Westbrook didn’t object to your presence tonight. It doesn’t mean you’re staying.”
“I didn’t assume—”
“You don’t belong in these rooms. You’re a placeholder.”
The words weren’t cruel. They were cold. Clinical. Like a reminder from one machine to another.
Leah said nothing.
Rebecca didn’t wait for a reply.
Half an hour later, the house was still.
Leah slipped back to the staff wing, removing her shoes as she entered her room. Her feet ached, but her chest ached more.
She pulled out her phone and stared at Eli’s last voice memo.
“Mommy, did you get the new job? Can I have a bunk bed now?”
She bit down hard on her lower lip.
“Yes, baby,” she whispered. “I’m still here.”
For now.
Across the house, in the guest suite, Jess stood near the window, her phone pressed to her ear.
“I don’t care how new she is,” she said flatly. Her name wasn’t on the original staff list. I want a report.”
A pause.
“She says she’s from Raleigh. That’s close enough to be a problem.”
Another pause.
“Do whatever it takes. I want her gone before the next quarter begins.”
- Writer
