One step. Then another. Her back straightened. Her chin lifted.
Mr. Gozon’s expression darkened. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Mia said nothing. She slowly untied the apron from her waist—no anger, no rush—and laid it gently over the broken plate.
A ripple of whispers spread across the dining room.
“What is this?” Gozon hissed. “Have you lost your mind?”
Mia met his eyes. For the first time since stepping into Le Ciel, she did not bow. She did not flinch.
Her voice trembled—but it was steady.
“You’re fired.”
The room erupted.
Gozon laughed, loud and cruel. “Me? Fired? Who do you think you are—”
A single clap cut through the noise.
Slow. Deliberate.
It came from the far end of the room—from the investors’ table.
A man in a gray suit stood. White hair. Piercing eyes. Authority that needed no volume.
Laurent Duval.
Founder of Duval Hospitality Group. Owner of Le Ciel.
Gozon went pale.
“S-Sir Laurent… I didn’t know you were here—”
“I saw everything,” Laurent said coolly as he stepped forward. Each footfall echoed like judgment. “And I wish I hadn’t.”
The restaurant fell silent.
Mia stood shaking—but no longer crying.
“Mr. Gozon,” Laurent continued, “explain why you chose to humiliate an employee in front of guests.”
Gozon stammered. “I—I was joking—”
“That’s not all,” Laurent said. “I also heard you use words like ‘eat it’ and ‘shit.’”
Gozon swallowed hard. “Sir, I didn’t mean—”
SLAP.
The sound rang sharply.
It wasn’t Laurent.
It was the woman beside him.
Isabelle Duval.
Co-owner of the group. And far less forgiving.
“In this business,” she said coldly, “we do not tolerate people who play with another person’s dignity.”
She turned to Mia. “Your name?”
“M-Mia.”
“Full name.”
“Mia Alonzo.”
