Chapter 2 You're Fired!

Diana's POV

Pow!

My knuckles connected directly with his jaw, sending a satisfying, jaw breaking punch.

The man stumbled backward, his eyes wide with shock, before his legs gave out completely.

He hit the floor with immense force, taking his dining chair down with him in a clattering crash against the brick wall.

Gasps tore through the packed dining room, followed instantly by a suffocating, pin-drop silence. I stood over him, my shoulders heaving, my right hand throbbing with so much pain.

Dozens of eyes stared back at me in utter disbelief. Spilled lattes pooled across the tile floor. Mouths hung agape. Beside the counter, two of my fellow waitresses stood frozen like statues, holding their serving trays mid-air.

"Mummy.... she punched him!" a little boy said from a corner booth, pointing his finger directly at me.

"Ahh! How dare you lay your filthy hands on my boyfriend?!"

I spun around toward the annoying, high-pitched voice. The man's girlfriend was trembling with rage, her fake eyelashes fluttering like an agitated Chihuahua.

A wave of pure disgust washed over me. "How can she still defend that bastard after what he just did?" I thought bitterly. Some women really are their own worst enemies.

She lunged toward me, with her nails out like that of a hawk, but Marco appeared out of nowhere, planting himself directly between us and catching her wrists.

Good for her though. If her tacky manicured nails had made even the slightest contact with my skin, I would have sent her flying right alongside her precious boyfriend.

"Idiota! Do you have any idea who I am? Do you know what I can do to you?!" the man barked from the floor.

He wiped a hand across his face, his fingers were smeared with a thick, deep red blood running down his nose. Well deserved. At least I drew blood from the nasty bastard.

"Who bloody cares?" I shot back, a nasty, venomous smirk plastering itself across my face. He had spent the last twenty minutes trying to get my attention, well, now he had every single drop of it.

"That filthy man touched her first!" a woman at table four suddenly yelled, standing up.

"Yes! I saw the whole thing!" a gentleman beside her chimed in. "He grabbed her ass!"

"Honestly, what do these rich snobs think they are? Second to God?!" my ride-or-die coworker, Mia, shouted triumphantly from behind the espresso counter.

"I got the entire thing on camera!" a teenager in a hoodie announced, holding up his phone.

Instantly, the ugly guy and his girlfriend ducked their heads, instinctively shielding their faces from the camera.

In a world powered by social media, a single viral video could destroy a reputation by sunset. The last thing a self-important creep like himself wanted was to end up as the main dish on an influencer's gossip feed.

Realizing his precious ego was shattered beyond repair, the man scrambled to his feet, threw a wad of cash onto the ruined table, and turned on his heels.

He stormed out of the restaurant in utter shame, his girlfriend scurrying right behind him like a loyal lapdog.

I stood tall, chest rising and falling, feeling like a gladiator who had just won a battle in the arena. The entire restaurant suddenly erupted into a deafening round of applause.

"You did well, my dear," an elderly woman cheered, patting my shoulder gently as she passed. "Always stand up for yourself!"

Any lingering trace of guilt I had felt melted away in an instant. I smoothed down my white apron, held my head high, and spent the next hour flying through my shift.

Customers went out of their way to smile at me, dropping unusually heavy bills into my apron pockets. It felt like a blessing in disguise. Until the heavy wooden door of the back hallway swung open.

"Diana. My office. Now!."

My stomach instantly dropped into my shoes. Oh God No...

Mia and Alice exchanged sad, heavy looks across the counter. In our restaurant, being summoned to Marco's back office was a death sentence.

I wiped my hands on my apron, my heart hammering heavily against my ribs.

"Mother Mary, help me," I whispered under my breath, making a swift, subtle sign of the cross over my chest.

-

I pushed open the heavy oak door and slipped inside, my palms were soaked with sweat. I had a reputation for causing a little chaos wherever I went, but I had never been dragged into Marco's inner sanctum before.

Marco didn't look up immediately. He sat behind his desk, rubbing his temples in silence. Finally, he gestured toward the empty leather chair opposite him.

I sank into it, the quietness in the room reminding me of the rare occasions my father used to scold my little brothers back at home.

"Diana..." Marco began softly. He didn't yell. His voice was unnaturally calm, lacking the fiery Italian tongue-lashing I had braced myself for. "Tell me the truth. Did he touch you?"

"Yes, sir," I blurted out, my voice tight. "He grabbed my butt and demanded my personal number like I was something on a menu!"

"Hmm." Marco let out a long, weary sigh, as he entangled his fingers. "Diana, you are a remarkably beautiful young woman, and I know men act like fools around you. I understand why you snapped. I really do."

I let out a huge breath I didn't realize I was holding. Relief flooded through me. Phew. Someone who actually gets it!

"Which is why it breaks my heart," Marco continued quietly, "that I can't keep you here."

The air vanished from my lungs. "What? No... please, Marco!" My voice trembled dangerously. Cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck.

I reached frantically into my apron pocket, pulling out a small handkerchief to dab at my forehead, but the room felt like it was shrinking by the second.

"You're fired, Diana. I am so, so sorry," Marco whispered, looking genuinely pained. "You don't understand. That man isn't just rich, his family holds so much power. If he files a formal assault complaint, he could have my little restaurant revoked by tomorrow morning. He could close my entire business."

"Marco, please..."

"Pack your belongings. You're dismissed." Just like that. The job that had kept a roof over my family's head and food on our table for the last two years was swept out from under me in a single breath.

All because a wealthy creep couldn't keep his hands to himself, and a poor waitress had no power to fight back.

I slowly pulled myself out of the chair. Marco couldn't even meet my gaze; he kept his eyes fixed firmly on his desk. I turned and walked toward the exit, my breath hitching in my throat as my entire future crumbled into dust.

When I pulled the office door open, I nearly tripped over my coworkers. Mia, Alice, and Mrs. Ginevra were hovering in the narrow hallway, having listened to every word through the door.

They were my little family, the main reason I managed to keep smiling through double shifts and struggling hours while still trying to balance school with work.

A faint, heartbroken smile touched my lips before everything burst, and tears spilled down my cheeks. In a second, all three of them wrapped their arms around me, pulling me into a suffocating group hug.

"I'll miss you, my little firecracker," Mia sobbed, burying her face into my shoulder, her hot tears soaking straight through my cotton blouse.

"Take care of yourself, Diana," Mrs. Ginevra murmured gently, stroking my hair. "You did the right thing. Never let Marco break your spirit."

-

I walked over to the staff lockers, my fingers shaking so badly I could barely turn the small padlock. I opened the narrow metal door and slowly began gathering the tiny pieces of my life.

My freshly washed apron. A chipped coffee mug Mia had bought me for my last birthday.

A small notebook filled with my shift schedules. And a pale white envelope containing the meager cash wages from my last week of work.

Before I could close the locker, Mrs. Ginevra stepped up beside me, holding out a large, heavy glass jar overflowing with crumpled bills and coins.

"This is yours," she said warmly, pressing it into my hands. "The customers were so proud of you for standing up to that pig that they filled the tipping jar to the brim. Take it."

My chest tightened. I hugged the heavy jar against my ribs and threw my arms around her one last time. "Thank you," I choked out.

I might be jobless, but this kindness would buy us a few extra weeks of bread. I walked toward the front entrance, my head down, my spirits lower than they had ever been in my entire life.

I paused at the threshold, turning back to take one final look at the warm, glowing dining room. My coworkers lined up by the counter, waving goodbye with sad, tearful smiles.

Marco stood leaning against the glass. He didn't say a word, but as my eyes met his, his lips silently framed two words: "I'm sorry."

I offered a sad, forgiving nod, pushed the heavy door open, and stepped out onto the pavement as the little brass bell above me chimed for the very last time...

-

The cool air in Milan hit my face as I began walking aimlessly down the cobblestone streets. The rich, mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked bread and buttery pastries drifted out from a corner bakery, instantly making my stomach let out a loud, painful rumble.

I had skipped breakfast to make it to my shift on time. I unzipped my bag and peeked inside my wallet.

Empty!.

I reached toward the glass jar of tip money, but my fingers froze. No. This money is for my family's rent and other necessities.

Being poor was an absolute curse. I turned away from the bakery window, swallowing down the hunger pains, when my phone suddenly vibrated loudly in my pocket.

I pulled it out and saw the name flashing across the screen in bold capital letters: SOFIA. My best friend.

I swiped the screen and brought the phone to my ear. "Hello-"

"Hey bitch! Don't you dare say no until you hear me out!" Sofia's energetic voice boomed through the speaker before I could even draw a breath.

I instantly squeezed my eyes shut, my brow furrowing in irritation.

"Hear what out, Sofia? I'm really not in the mood f-"

"I just found a job for you," Sofia interrupted, her tone sharp and dripping with excitement. "A gig that pays more in a single month than you've made in the last entire year."