Chapter 58
I walked across the restaurant, not paying mind to the eyes that followed me as I approached her.
Her pink mini skirt sat dangerously below her ass, just centimeters away from scarring everyone here.
“I’m s-so sorry ma’am!” The waitress begged, she looked seconds away from tears.
“Sorry??” Ashley gasped, “Do you know how much this fit costs??? It’s custom-made by GUCCI!! GUCCI!! I’m sure even a lowlife like you must have heard of it.”
Lowlife? I clenched my fists even harder.
Her voice rose again, “Where’s the bloody manager??”
I stopped a few steps behind her.
“Ashley,” I said, my voice even.
Her head snapped towards me.
And the moment her eyes landed on me, she froze, like she wasn’t expecting to see me.
Then her eyes narrowed, “Well if it isn’t Imani the fraud. Did you come here to steal someone’s idea too?”
So they were still close?
I wonder if it’s the same with Damien.
“What’s the problem here?” I asked, ignoring her jab.
“How is that any of your business??” Ashley spat, turning to face the fidgety waitress.
“If you were really sorry, you would be on your knees now, kissing my feet!” She said haughtily.
The waitress was about to obey, but I held my hand out, stopping her.
“There’ll be no need for that.” I said.
“I’ll be the one to decide that, not you!” She raised her voice and turned back to the waitress, “Are you deaf?? I said, Kneel!”
The waitress glanced at me, and I shook my head.
She listened. She didn’t move.
If not for the Botox in her face, she would have looked even for furious, “I’ll make sure you pay every last–“
“What did she do?” I cut her off, “I’m sure she must have done something so grave for you to make a spectacle of yourself.”
“Excuse me?” She asked, clearly offended.
“You understand English, right? Or is that a struggle for you too?” I asked, and I could hear the murmur rise from the surrounding tables.
She fumed, “This imbecile stained my clothes! She clearly can’t pay for it so she should apologize properly.” She pointed at the waitress, but her glare remained on me.
I turned to the waitress, “Did you spill the drink by accident?”
She nodded frantically, her eyes watering, “Y-yes ma’am! It wasn’t intentional–“
“You lying piece of shit!” She spat and she raised her hand to the waitress, but before it could collide with her face, I stopped it mid-air.
“Let go of me, you bitch!!” She protested in my grip.
“You have no right to harass this woman.” I said.
“Harass??” She asked in disbelief, “She ruined my outfit!!!”
I threw her hand away, “How much is your outfit??”
“20,000 dollars! Has she ever seen such money in her life???” She raised her voice.
I chuckled slowly, “Just 20,000? That’s what is causing you to make a fool of yourself?”
I whipped out my phone and punched some keys. A few seconds later, her phone pinged.
When she looked at the screen, her eyes widened. “I sent you forty thousand dollars,” I said, loud enough for the people around to hear, “That should cover the damages.”
The murmurs were becoming more audible, her eyes glancing around as they reached her ears.
Her eyes snapped to me, “I don’t need your money!!”
I scoffed, “The same way you didn’t need my money when I paid for your Lamborghini?”
I heard a gasp.
“Wait, Imani paid for her Lambo?”
“I thought she said she got it herself?”
“How many things has she lied about?”
“Her outfit could be borrowed, who knows?”
A smirk grew on my face as I watched the expression on her face.
“That money went to charity.” She quickly said, trying to save face.
“Which one?”
“The Hamilton Foundation.” She blurted out, like it was waiting on the tip of her tongue.
I raised a brow, “You mean your best friend’s foundation?”
“And so what??” She said defensively.
“Okay then, I wouldn’t want to slander your very upright name in public.” I started, my tone deliberate, “So would you show the receipt of the transfer to the foundation?”
“What?” She was stunned.
“The receipt. You didn’t use my money to buy the Lamborghini right? Then show me.” I said.
Her fists tightened by her sides, “I don’t need to prove anything to you!!”
I smirked, “You might have to prove it to them, though.” I pointed to her side.
Several phones were lifted, recording that moment.
“Are you recording me??” She asked, her eyes widening, “Stop recording me right now!!!”
She marched up to one of them, snatched the phone from their hands, and smashed it to the floor. “You cannot film me without my permission!!”
“Then you shouldn’t have performed your foolishness out in the open.”
More cameras rose, and the whispers became louder now. More bolds
Ashley’s face flushed lightly, partly in embarrassment. Partly in fury.
“Imani, you little snake! You planned this!!” She said, her tone accusing.
I laughed, a small disbelieving sound, “I did not even know you would be here.”
The waitress tugged on my sleeve, whispering, “Please stop, she might get me fired.”
I turned slightly toward her, and gave her a reassuring smile, “You will not lose your job. I promise.”
Ashley jabbed a finger at me.“You think talking over me makes you better?? You think embarrassing me makes you look powerful??”
“I do not have to do anything to embarrass you,” I said, “You are doing it yourself.”
A snicker escaped someone’s lips.
Ashley’s eyes darted around the restaurant again, and now even more people were facing us.
More people were seeing her for the fool she was.
“You should leave now, before I involve the police.”
“The police???” She asked, shocked.
“For harassing this woman and demeaning her.” I voiced.
She was about to say something, but she paused, her eyes turning to the crowd once more.
She couldn’t afford any more damage to her image.
Her eyes shot daggers at me as she clenched her jaw, and stomped towards the exit.
The waitress exhaled shakily and whispered, “Thank you.”
“You do not need to thank me,” I said, “She should be the one apologizing.”
I turned to walk back to Jay, but something in the corner of my eye caught my attention.
A woman stood near the back of the restaurant, holding a leather folio and a small tablet. Her pen was moving, scribbling notes.
She met my eyes and smiled. Then she walked toward our table.
Jay straightened in his seat as she arrived. “Are you the interviewer?” he asked.
The woman nodded, “Yes, I am so sorry I am late.” Then she stretched out her hand to me, “I’m Ella.”
“Imani.” I took her hand in a brief shake.
“It seems my timing was perfect. I did not expect such an… eventful introduction.” She said as she pulled out a chair and sat down.
“I just couldn’t sit back and watch someone get harassed because of their status.” I said, capitalizing on this moment.
She nodded, “That’s very admirable… shall we begin?”
I smiled, “Of course.”