Julian: “Champagne?”
A senior VP glanced toward the owner’s table.
At the far end of the room, Adrian Voss had stopped talking mid-sentence, eyes on his son.
Board Member (whispering): “Is he… doing that on purpose?”
Adrian (quietly): “He’s always doing something on purpose.”
Mina stood with her hands suddenly empty, feeling exposed without her tray—like someone had removed her shield.
Lina, another server, leaned in.
Lina (hissing): “Is he serious?”
Mina: “I… don’t know.”
Lina: “That’s the owner’s son. Be careful. These people collect stories like trophies. One wrong move and you become a rumor.”
Mina: “I didn’t ask for this.”
Lina: “No. He did.”
Julian made a full circle of the room, offering champagne with the same neutral professionalism Mina had carried all night.
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