Inés continued.
“Mr. Laurent, if anyone here has behaved unprofessionally, it is not Miss Marković.”
The manager froze.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Javier Montes raised his glass slightly.
“I also believe a wager remains unsettled.”
Antoine turned toward him.
“What?”
Javier smiled faintly.
“One hundred thousand dollars.”
The table fell silent.
Elena stood beside the wine bottle, suddenly aware of how much the sum meant.
One hundred thousand dollars.
Enough to pay her remaining educational expenses.
Help her mother.
Repay family debts.
And establish a financial cushion she had never possessed.
But she wasn't sure she wanted to take money from a man who had treated her dignity as an evening's entertainment.
Antoine looked toward her.
Then laughed.
“Surely nobody expects me to hand over a hundred thousand dollars because a waitress speaks a few languages.”
Inés set down her glass.
“That's precisely what you offered.”
He frowned.
“It was a joke.”
Elena looked directly into his eyes.
Then asked quietly, “At what point did it become a joke, monsieur?”
He stared.
She continued.
“When you believed I couldn't speak Spanish, or when your guests agreed that I could?”
For several seconds, no one moved.
Then Beatriz slowly nodded.
The question hung over the table.
Antoine had spent the evening assuming his money gave him the right to embarrass a stranger.
Now the stranger was asking him to explain why his word no longer mattered when the consequences became inconvenient.
He looked toward the signed paper.
Then away.
Luc leaned closer again.
This time, Antoine waved him off.
He stared at Elena.
“You've made your point.”
She shook her head gently.
“I didn't come here to make a point. I came here to do my job.”
The words seemed to strike him harder than her entire Spanish explanation.
Inés smiled sadly.
Then spoke.
“And you did it well.”
Elena inclined her head.
“Thank you.”
The manager finally approached.
He looked pale.
“Elena, I think perhaps you should finish your shift in the service area.”
She stared at him.
Then nodded.
“Of course, monsieur.”
She picked up her notepad.
Stepped away from the table.
And walked toward the kitchen.
Her posture remained straight until she passed through the service doors.
Only then did her hands begin shaking.
Nadia was waiting beside the preparation counter.
She took one look at Elena's face.
“What happened?”
Elena leaned against the wall.