SHE TOLD THE WAITRESS TO KNOW HER PLACE.

Before Nora decided whether to meet Celia, she had to sit across from Franklin Reeve for a deposition in the civil case. Evelyn warned her not to treat it as punishment.

“He is going to test your memory,” Evelyn said. “That is his job.”

“He called me a serious allegation with legs the first night.”

“He did not say that.”

“He looked it.”

Evelyn laughed. “Don't testify to facial subtitles.”

The deposition took place in a neutral conference room with bad fluorescent lighting and better coffee than Nora expected. A court reporter sat at the end of the table. Reeve was calm, prepared, and almost painfully courteous. That made the questions sharper.

He began with Nora's employment history. Then her prior interactions with Celia. Then the old complaint entered under Richard's guest profile.

“You were aware before the dinner that a member of the Vale party had complained about you?”

“No.”

“When did you first learn that?”

“After the dinner, when records were reviewed.”

“So you did not have a motive to retaliate based on that complaint?”

“I couldn't retaliate over something I didn't know existed.”

Reeve nodded. “Fair.”

Then he turned to the video.

“How long did you observe Ms. Vale before recording?”

“A few seconds.”

“Could you see the packet before you began recording?”

“Yes.”

“Could you read any label on it?”

“No.”

“Did you know what substance was inside?”

“No.”

“Did you consider asking Ms. Vale what she was doing?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because she was putting powder into a decanter intended for another person. My first priority was preserving what I was seeing and keeping the drink from being served.”

“You did not immediately seize the decanter.”

“No.”

“You did not immediately call police.”

“No.”

“You continued working.”

“For about fifteen minutes while I told my manager and tried to figure out how to interrupt service without causing someone to drink from it.”

Reeve glanced at his notes. “You were concerned about your job.”

“Yes.”

“Concerned enough that you delayed?”

Nora felt the question tighten around her.

Evelyn said, “Answer only if you understand.”

“I understand.” Nora looked at Reeve. “I told Peter within minutes. I did not know whether he would believe me. I also did not know whether accusing a wealthy guest without knowing what the powder was would get me fired before I could stop the glass. So yes, I was concerned about my job while trying to prevent the drink from reaching Richard.”

Reeve was quiet.

That answer embarrassed Nora even though it was true. People liked bravery to be clean. Her bravery had a bank balance attached. She had been calculating rent while watching a possible poisoning.

Reeve continued. “And when Mr. Vale lifted the glass?”

“I stopped him.”

“Physically.”

“Yes.”

“Without asking permission.”

Nora almost laughed. “Yes.”

“Ms. Vale then struck your hand.”

“Yes.”

“Did she strike your face?”

“No.”

“Did she strike you more than once?”

“No.”

“Did you fall?”

“No.”

“Did you require emergency medical care?”

“No.”

Evelyn had warned Nora this would happen. The defense was narrowing the physical harm. Nora refused to inflate it.

“My hand was bruised. It hurt. The strike mattered mostly because she was trying to knock me away from the glass.”

Reeve looked up. “That last part is your interpretation.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Nora hated him a little for being right.

After lunch, Reeve asked about money. Her wages. Her promotion. The restaurant settlement. Richard's offer to pay legal expenses. The civil demand.

“Have you financially benefited from this incident?”

Nora looked at Evelyn.

“Answer,” Evelyn said.

“Yes.”

Reeve waited.

Nora continued, “I received wages I should not have lost, compensation for the company's employment actions, and a raise tied to a promotion I accepted. I have not been paid by Richard Vale. I have not sold interviews. I have not signed a settlement with Celia.”

“Would you like to receive money from Ms. Vale?”

“I would like compensation for actual harm without selling my right to speak truthfully.”

Reeve nodded. “That's a yes.”

“Yes.”

The answer felt dangerous because internet morality had taught Nora that victims were supposed to reject money to remain pure. But money paid for harm. Lost wages were money. Lawyers cost money. Therapy, if she eventually needed it, would cost money. Purity did not pay invoices.

During the lunch break, Nora ate a turkey sandwich from a deli downstairs while Evelyn reviewed notes. Across the lobby, Reeve's team unpacked catered salads from a delivery bag. The difference was not important enough to resent, but it made Nora think about how class could turn even truth-telling into endurance. She had used a paid day off to sit for the deposition. A coworker without that benefit might have had to choose between testifying in a civil case and covering rent. She wrote the thought in the margin of her notebook: access to justice includes time. Evelyn saw it and nodded. “That's why wage-loss claims exist,” she said. Nora replied, “And why people settle even when they're right.” The deposition suddenly felt less like a personal battle and more like one example of how long processes favor people who can afford delay.

At the end of the deposition, Reeve closed his folder. “Ms. Hale, one final area.”

He placed a printout on the table.

It was a photograph from a Vale luncheon eight weeks before the dinner. Nora was visible in the background carrying plates. Celia stood near the center of the frame, turned partly toward Nora.

“Have you seen this photograph?”

“No.”

“It was posted publicly by a guest after the luncheon.”

Nora studied it. Her employee badge was visible, but the image was too distant to read the name.

Reeve said, “We believe this may explain how my client recognized you.”

“From a blurry background photo?”

“Possibly.”

“Did she say that?”

“No.”

“Then it's a theory.”

“Yes.”

Nora looked at the photograph again. It could explain her face. It did not explain her name.