Hearing that fake-sweet talk, my hand holding the steak froze mid-air, and my usually graceful face turned cold.
I didn’t say a word or take another step inside. I just looked down, picked up the black pepper sauce, and poured it over the steak.
Paul had ordered this one especially for me—thick filet, medium-well, still a bit bloody. Big piece, too.
Ronald frowned, his tone low and unreadable. "What did you just say?"
Grace suddenly stood up, looking at Ronald. "Mr. Wright, it's not like that. Mrs. Wright has been really nice to me. She hasn’t bullied me."
"Natalie, stop talking. You're really crossing a line."
Natalie jumped up too. "Grace, are you for real? I’m standing up for you and now you're snapping at me? Didn’t she just threaten you? Said she’d go nuts and hit
