Chapter 8 - The Sabotage
Three weeks passed.
Life transformed completely for Mason and me. Mason blew through his interview with Calder Construction Group, impressing the head of development so deeply that he was offered the lead structural engineer position on the spot.
For the first time in nearly two years, our lives were stable, prosperous, and filled with joy. We paid off our debts, secured our future, and began to sleep soundly at night.
At The Meridian Room, my floor reforms were a resounding success. Staff morale soared to unprecedented levels, service efficiency increased, and floor revenues actually rose by twelve percent as word spread through Chicago of the restaurant’s warm, pristine atmosphere.
However, dark clouds were gathering behind the scenes.
Arthur Price had not forgiven me. His pride had been deeply wounded by his daughter’s banishment and his own public humiliation before the board of directors.
On a cold Friday evening, during the absolute peak of our dinner rush, calamity struck the restaurant kitchen.
At seven-thirty, with the dining room filled to capacity with wealthy patrons, politicians, and food critics, Executive Chef Andre rushed into my floor office, his face pale with horror.
“Lily! We have a catastrophic problem in the cold storage!” Andre gasped, dripping with sweat.
I stood up immediately. “What happened, Andre?”
“The main walk-in refrigeration units just completely died!” Andre cried, wringing his hands in panic. “The electronic control panels were wiped! Temperature sensors are spiking rapidly! Over forty thousand dollars worth of fresh Wagyu beef, seafood, caviar, and delicate sauces will be completely spoiled within thirty minutes if the temperature keeps rising!”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “Did the backup generators kick in?”
“No!” Andre yelled. “The automated trip valves were manually shut off from the basement maintenance panel! Someone cut the breaker lines!”
Sabotage.
I rushed out of the office toward the kitchen, my mind racing. If forty thousand dollars of fresh inventory spoiled tonight, we would be forced to cancel over two hundred dinner reservations, devastating the restaurant’s reputation and providing Arthur Price with the perfect ammunition to fire me for operational incompetence.
I grabbed my phone, dialing the building’s maintenance chief, but the line went straight to voicemail. Someone had deliberately tampered with the floor system.
I sprinted down the narrow metal stairs leading into the dark, damp basement service corridor beneath the kitchen. The air down here was cold, smelling of concrete and old pipes.
As I rounded the corner toward the main electrical breaker room, I caught sight of a figure stepping out of the shadows near the control box, holding a heavy wire cutter.
He wore a dark maintenance jumpsuit, but as he turned his head toward the flashlight beam on my phone, I recognized his face instantly.
It was Greg. The former floor manager.
“Greg!” I shouted, stepping forward into the corridor. “What are you doing down here?!”
Greg flinched, dropping his wire cutters onto the concrete floor with a loud metallic clatter. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and filled with bitter, desperate malice.
“Lily,” Greg spat, his voice trembling with hatred. “You think you’re so smart, don't you? Sitting in my office! Taking my salary! Destroying my career!”
“You destroyed your own career, Greg!” I said, keeping my distance while keeping my phone camera aimed at him. “You were fired because you treated an old man like trash!”
“Arthur Price hired me back to take care of this!” Greg yelled, a terrifying grin creeping across his face. “He paid me ten thousand dollars to slip down here during the dinner rush and kill the cold storage power! By tomorrow morning, every newspaper in Chicago will report that Lily Carter ruined The Meridian Room’s inventory and poisoned half the city’s elite! You’re finished!”
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My mind locked into sharp focus. He had just confessed—and he had said Arthur Price’s name out loud.
And my phone’s audio recorder was running.
