Julian lied smoothly, finding his footing again. and she implied that if I didn't give her a massive tip, $5,000 to be exact, she would leak false rumors to the press about my company. She threatened my stock price, Henderson. It was an outrageous lie, absurd. But Julian said it with the conviction of a man who believed his own narrative.
"I did no such thing," Elena said, looking at Henderson. "Mr. Thorne proposed a wager. He asked me a question about his business. I answered it.
He didn't like the answer because it exposed his own incompetence. Incompetence? Julian shouted, turning to the other diners who were now watching with rapt attention. Did you hear that?
She just insulted a guest. I am Julian Thorne. I run a $4 billion fund and this nobody calls me incompetent. He turned back to Henderson, his eyes hard as diamonds.
Fire her, Julian commanded. Mr. Thorne, surely we can just assign another server. Henderson began weakly. I said fire her.
Julian stepped closer to the manager right now. If she is still employed at this restaurant in 2 minutes, I will buy this building evict you and turn this place into a parking lot. And then I will ensure that you never manage so much as a taco stand in this city again. Do you understand me?
Henderson looked at Julian. Then he looked at Elena. It wasn't a fair choice. It wasn't a moral choice.
But in the world of high-end service, the customer, especially the billionaire customer, was God. Henderson couldn't meet Elena's eyes. He looked at the floor. "Elena," Henderson whispered.
"I'm sorry," "Mr. Henderson, you know he's lying," Elena said softly. There was a crack in her voice now, not of sadness, but of frustration. She needed this job. She needed the health insurance.
Give me your apron. Henderson said, his voice trembling. Please don't make a scene. Just go.
Elena looked at Julian. He was smiling now. The color had returned to his cheeks. He had won.
He had erased the witness to his foolishness. By destroying her credibility and her livelihood, he felt he had regained his power. "You see, Elena," Julian whispered, leaning in, so only she could hear. "It doesn't matter if you're right.
It matters who holds the checkbook. That is the only lesson in economics you need." Elena slowly reached behind her back and untied her apron. She folded it neatly. She placed it on the empty chair next to Julian.
She looked at the $500 that was still sitting on the table. The bait for the trick question. "You can keep your money," Elena said loud enough for the table to hear. "You're going to need it for the lawyers when your investors find out you almost torched their portfolios." She turned to leave.