Chapter 4 - The Banquet's Aftermath
"Mr. Moretti! Mr. Moretti, sir!" Henderson practically threw himself at Vincent’s feet, wiping his glistening forehead with a silk handkerchief. "I am so terribly, terribly sorry! The staff was instructed to assist Mrs. Moretti at all times! I assure you, this gross negligence does not reflect the standards of our hotel!"
Vincent looked down at the balding manager as though he were an insect crawling across a marble floor.
"Is that so?" Vincent asked, his voice dangerously low. "When my mother arrived ten minutes ago in a simple dress because she wished to view the foundation’s art gallery without the fanfare of bodyguards, where were your staff? Why was she left unattended near the service entrance?"
Henderson stammered, his eyes darting frantically toward Emma. Desperate to deflect blame, his face twisted into an ugly scowl. "It was her! Emma Carter! She was assigned to that sector! She must have abandoned her station or failed to assist Mrs. Moretti properly! I will fire her immediately, sir! She won't work in this state ever again, I promise you—"
"Silence," Vincent snapped.
The word was like a gunshot. Henderson’s mouth snapped shut instantly, his knees shaking.
"If Emma Carter had not been at that station, my mother would have suffered a grievous injury at the hands of a violent guest," Vincent said, stepping closer until Henderson had to crane his neck backward to meet his gaze. "The only person who showed true dignity tonight was Miss Carter. While you, Mr. Henderson, hid behind champagne towers and catered exclusively to those with platinum credit cards."
Isabella shook her head in distaste. "Vincent, I do not wish to spend another minute in this room."
"Of course, Mother," Vincent said gently. He looked back at Henderson. "Tomorrow morning, the board of the Drake Hotel will receive notice that Moretti Enterprises has divested its twenty percent stake in this property. Furthermore, my legal team will ensure your immediate termination as general banquet director."
Henderson gasped, stumbling backward until he collided with a decorative column. "M-Mr. Moretti, please! I have a family!"
"You should have considered your family before you prioritized wealth over human decency," Vincent said cold-bloodedly.
Vincent then turned back to Emma. The severe, merciless look on his face softened into genuine consideration. "Go home for the night, Emma. Do not return to this kitchen. Someone will be in touch with you before noon."
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"Sir, I..." Emma began, holding the black card against her chest. "I don't need a reward. I just did what was right."
"I am not giving you a reward," Vincent replied smoothly, turning his mother's wheelchair toward the private elevator. "I am paying a debt. And a Moretti never leaves a debt unpaid."
