The Waitress With a PhD Who Silenced a Arrogant And Rude Billionaire
Chapter 19
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"Wasser," he said, switching to German. "Und vielleicht ein bisschen Respekt, aber ich bezweifle, dass Sie das verstehen." Water, and perhaps a bit of respect, but I doubt you understand that.Something in Camille's chest tightened: the familiar words, the familiar cruelty. It was starting again, and she couldn't stop it.She brought him water. He ordered the ribeye, speaking mostly in German, making his usual degrading comments. Camille took the order mechanically, her mind racing. She could walk out. She could quit right now, refuse to serve him. But then what? She needed this job. Her mother needed her to have this job.In the kitchen, Bethany saw her face. "He's back?""Yes.""How is that possible? Mrs. Patterson banned him.""She's not here tonight, and Lily didn't know." Camille's hands were shaking as she entered the order into the system.James came over, his expression dark. "You want me to accidentally mess up his order? Food poisoning isn't that hard to fake.""No. I just want to get through this shift." Camille closed her eyes. "I'm so tired, Bethany. So tired of this.""Then don't serve him. Tell Trevor you refuse.""Trevor will make me anyway, and then I'll look difficult, and Mrs. Patterson will hear about it, and maybe I'll lose my job for refusing a customer." Camille opened her eyes. "I don't have the luxury of refusing."She brought Theodore his meal. He ate slowly, speaking German the entire time: commenting on her appearance, her intelligence, her worthlessness. The same script he'd performed for weeks, but this time something was different: this time Camille felt less like she was enduring and more like she was breaking.Around 8:00, Theodore called her over. "Noch ein Getränk. Another drink."Camille brought him water. He took a sip, then set down the glass and looked at her directly."Sagen Sie mir etwas," he said in German. "Träumen Sie jemals? Oder haben Sie vor langer Zeit aufgehört zu träumen? Tell me something. Do you ever dream? Or did you stop dreaming a long time ago?"There was something different in his tone: not quite kind, but not purely cruel either, almost curious.Camille didn't respond. She turned to walk away."Ich kenne Ihren Typ," Theodore continued, his German flowing smoothly. "Still. Akzeptierend. Zu stolz, um um Hilfe zu bitten, aber zu verängstigt, um für sich selbst einzustehen. Sie ertragen, weil Sie glauben, dass Sie keine andere Wahl haben. I know your type. Quiet. Accepting. Too proud to ask for help, but too frightened to stand up for yourself. You endure because you believe you have no choice."Camille stopped walking. Something in those words pierced deeper than his usual insults."Aber das Traurige ist," Theodore continued, "Sie hatten wahrscheinlich einmal Träume. Ziele. Hoffnungen. Und das Leben hat sie Ihnen Stück für Stück genommen, bis Sie zu dem wurden: einer Dienerin, unsichtbar, bedeutungslos. But the sad part is, you probably had dreams once, goals, hopes, and life took them from you piece by piece until you became this: a servant, invisible, meaningless. And now you measure your worth in tips and smiles and the ability to endure humiliation. Was für eine Verschwendung. What a waste."