"Unfortunately."
Sofia grinned.
"And you acted like it was just another shift."
"It was supposed to be."
They both laughed.
Then Sofia became serious.
"Watching you handle that made me think differently about my own work."
Nia looked surprised.
"What do you mean?"
Sofia took a breath.
"I used to think serving tables meant I hadn't done enough with my life yet."
She paused.
"Like the job was something I needed to apologize for."
Nia shook her head.
"You never had anything to apologize for."
"I know that now."
For several seconds, Sofia looked toward the empty dining room.
Then she smiled.
"I want to manage a hotel someday. But I don't want to forget what it's like when a guest talks to someone like they're invisible."
Nia reached for her hand.
"Then you'll be a better manager because of it."
Sofia's eyes filled.
"Promise you'll visit?"
Nia smiled.
"Absolutely."
They embraced.
And for a moment, the restaurant felt less like a workplace than the place where two friends had survived a difficult chapter of their lives.
Victor Liang remained a wealthy man after leaving Asterion's executive leadership.
His departure didn't erase decades of accumulated assets.
He still owned investments.
Still had influential friends.
And still moved through a world most people would never experience.
But his reputation had changed.
The independent review had exposed governance failures, and the company's original acquisition strategy had been abandoned.
He was no longer the unquestioned authority at the organization he'd spent much of his life building.
For a long time, Victor blamed other people.
Elliot.
The lawyers.
The independent directors.
The transaction timetable.
And the young woman who refused to accept the purported waiver.
But the longer he remained outside daily management, the harder it became to ignore the part he'd played.
He hadn't personally created every problem.
Yet he'd repeatedly discouraged people from telling him things he didn't want to hear.
He'd treated Margaret's warnings as obstacles.
He'd dismissed Nia's standing because she was young.
And at the restaurant, he'd publicly humiliated a woman whose work he considered beneath his attention.
Those decisions weren't identical.
But they came from a common habit.
He assumed his position entitled him to decide which people deserved to be heard.
One rainy afternoon, Victor returned to Mei Zhou's restaurant.
He came alone.
Without an entourage.
Without a reservation for a private room.
The hostess recognized him immediately and asked whether he wanted a table.
He nodded.
Mei appeared before he was seated.
For a moment, they looked at each other.
Then she said, "Mr. Liang."