Chapter 3 - I Was Not Dominic's Secret Weapon
By Monday morning, the internet had decided I was a billionaire’s wife working undercover to test rich people.
I was not.
One post claimed I owned the Monarch Room.
I did not.
Another said Dominic sent me there to spy on the Hale family.
He had never even met Preston.
A third claimed my haircut was staged to destroy a business rival.
That one received nearly two million views.
Reality was less satisfying.
I worked at Monarch because I wanted to.
Before marrying Dominic, I spent eight years in hospitality.
Server.
Bartender.
Floor supervisor.
I left restaurant management after my mother died and my life changed faster than I wanted.
Meeting Dominic did not magically cure my need for work that belonged to me.
After we married, every room changed when people knew my last name.
Hotel employees stood straighter.
Waiters stopped joking around me.
Store managers appeared from nowhere.
At charity events, people asked what Dominic thought before asking what I did.
So I returned to service under Hayes.
Not forever.
Just enough to remember how I behaved when nobody cared whom I married.
Dominic thought the idea was absurd.
Then eventually said:
“One year.”
I said:
“You don’t get to give me a one-year permit.”
He hated that.
He also laughed.
We compromised.
Eleven months later, half my hair was gone.
That did not make him right.
It made the workplace unsafe.
Those were different things.
By Tuesday, I had an employment attorney.
Rachel Kim.
She represented me, not Dominic.
That distinction irritated several members of his legal team.
Good.
Rachel requested incident logs.
Camera records.
Security schedules.
Staff complaints involving Preston Hale or his guests.
Dennis’s written instructions.
Alcohol-service records.
The restaurant’s attorney responded politely.
Then slowly.
Very slowly.
That made Rachel more interested.
Meanwhile, the criminal investigation continued.
Forced hair cutting may sound trivial to people who have never been held down.
The prosecutor did not treat it that way.
Possible charges involved battery and unlawful restraint, depending on evidence establishing who physically participated and how.
Preston’s friends began retaining separate attorneys.
Their loyalty lasted less than forty-eight hours.
Mia came to our condo on Wednesday.
She cried before sitting down.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I froze.”
“You called police.”
“After.”
“You were twenty-two and six drunk men had just watched their friend shave a coworker.”
“I should’ve helped.”
I understood that impulse.
I also knew what happened when people turned fear into permanent guilt.
“You called when Dennis wouldn’t.”
Mia nodded.
Then:
“He knew Preston.”
“Dennis?”
“Yes.”
“He acted like he didn’t.”
That interested me.
“How?”
“Preston has been in before.”
“How many times?”
“A lot.”
“Dennis said this was his first birthday event.”
“Maybe birthday event.”
She wiped her face.
“But Hale people come through the private room constantly.”
“Any problems?”
Mia looked at me.
“Yes.”
That became the beginning of the second story.
May you like
The first was what Preston did to me.
The second was how many people had already learned to make his behavior disappear.
