Chapter 12 - Auditors in the Dining Room and Public Suspension
The morning shift had barely begun when the atmosphere in the restaurant shifted from quiet elegance to tense apprehension. Two men in charcoal suits and identical gray overcoats walked through the double doors just as I was setting out the water pitchers for lunch service. They bypassed the host stand entirely, flashing laminated credentials to the manager on duty before marching straight back toward the employee lockers. My stomach dropped. Within minutes, the head manager called my name over the service speaker, summoning me to the administrative office. The two auditors were already seated at the small metal desk, spreading out thick folders filled with payroll records, tax forms, and employee background checks.
"Tessa Paolini?" the older auditor asked, not looking up from a highlighted spreadsheet. "We have received formal filings alleging financial irregularities and unauthorized document access linked to your personnel file." I stood by the door, my hands clenched tightly in the pockets of my black apron. "That's impossible. I've only ever worked my shifts and followed the restaurant's protocols," I said, my voice shaking slightly despite my best efforts to keep it steady. The auditor slid a paper across the desk—a formal notice of immediate administrative suspension pending a full forensic investigation. Marco's signature was scrawled at the bottom as the authorized corporate representative filing the complaint.
Before I could demand an explanation, the office door pushed open wide, and Don Salvatore strode into the room, his silver hair catching the warm overhead light. He leaned heavily on his silver-handled cane, every step deliberate and commanding. He didn't look at the auditors at first; he looked at me, offering a reassuring nod before turning his fierce, piercing gaze onto the corporate representatives. "The only irregularity in this room is the presence of unauthorized men reviewing documents that belong exclusively to my private trust," Salvatore announced, his voice carrying an absolute authority that brooked no argument. He tapped his cane against the tile floor. "Pack your briefcases, gentlemen. You are dismissed." The auditors exchanged uneasy glances, packed their papers under the old man's unwavering stare, and left the room in silence. Salvatore turned to me, his expression softening. "Go home, Tessa. Rest. Tomorrow, we take the fight to them."
