“I didn’t steal anything. It was going in the trash.”
“It’s still theft.” He was yelling now, full volume, every table in the restaurant staring. “You think you can just take whatever you want? You think the rules don’t apply to you?”
My face burned, and I wanted to shrink, disappear.
“It was just food?—”
“It was my food!” He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging in hard enough to hurt. “You’re done. Get in the kitchen. Now.”
He was yelling at me so loud and making a scene that the whole restaurant could hear.
Then he grabbed my arm and dragged me into the kitchen, toward the doors, and I tried to pull free but his grip tightened. People stared and whispered, their eyes pressing on me like physical weight.
Suddenly, I heard a chair scrape back, the kitchen doors slammed open andhewalked through.
Yes. Hector Valdez himself.
He didn't even look at my boss, pulled out his phone to make a call, and said, "Robert? It’s Hector Valdez. I want to buy this restaurant. Now."
His voice was conversational and easy. “Aurelio’s in Midtown. Yes, now. I don’t care what the current owner wants. Offer him three times market value and have the papers drawn up within the hour.”
Greg’s hand went slack on my arm, his mouth opening but no sound coming out.
Hector listened to whatever Robert was saying and his expression never changed. “Good. Send the contracts to my office. And Robert? I want full ownership transferred by end of business today.” He hung up, pocketed his phone, then finally looked at Greg.
Fifteen seconds later he hung up the phone, walked straight past my boss and took my hand.
My boss stepped forward and threw his hands to his side, pouting, "Now wait just a minute... you can't just... this is MY kitchen!"
“You’re fired,” Hector said. “Get out.”
“You can’t—” Greg found his voice. “The owner will get mad. You can’t walk in here and?—”
“I just bought it, which means it’s my restaurant now.” Hector’s tone didn’t change, didn’t get louder or angrier. “I’vebeen eyeing it for a while now, and the papers are already drafted. Yourowneralready knows that. I’ll make sure he knows that you’re the one who solidified my decision to buy.”
When Greg still wasn’t moving, Hector added, “You have five minutes to collect your personal belongings and leave. After that, you’ll be trespassing.”
Greg’s face went purple.
“Four minutes.”
Greg looked around like someone might help him but no one moved, no one spoke. Finally he turned and stormed toward his office, muttering curses under his breath.
Hector walked past the frozen staff, past the staring customers, straight to where I stood. He took my arm—not rough like Greg had, just firm and matter-of-fact.
“We’re leaving,” he said.
“I’m working?—”
“Not anymore.” He looked at Maria. “She’s done for the night. Handle it.”
Then he guided me toward the exit and I was too stunned to resist.
My brain was still trying to catch up. “Did you just buy this restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” We stepped outside into the cold night air before he answered. I pulled my arm free, finally finding my footing.
