Chapter 13 - Don't Fire Anyone
The housekeeping office smelled like bleach and old coffee at 7:40 that night. The fluorescents buzzed over the metal desk where Dana had spread the time sheets, her red pen uncapped and already pressing hard enough to dent the paper.
Marta stood beside me with her hands clasped in front of her apron. She hadn't changed out of her uniform. Neither had I. My pants still had the wrinkle from the white sheets, and every time I shifted my weight I felt it.
Dana didn't look up at first. She tapped the sheet for Tuesday night. "We have a forty-seven-minute gap in service on the second floor. No check-ins. No rooms logged. Two staff unaccounted for in overlapping windows."
My stomach dropped. I knew which window she meant.
She looked at Marta. "You were supposed to finish the guest hall by ten-fifteen. You logged it at eleven-oh-two. Where were you?"
Marta glanced at me fast, then back. "I was helping—"
"Helping who?" Dana said. "Because the cameras show you off your floor for twenty minutes, and that's time theft. You know the policy. One write-up away from a cut, Marta."
Dana turned a page to a printed list. Three names highlighted in yellow. Marta's was on top. She slid it across like it was already decided.
"This is my recommendation for the staff reduction Friday. You're first on it."
Marta went still. "Dana, please. I have—"
"It was me." The words came out before I could steady them. My voice sounded thin under the buzzing light. "She wasn't off her floor for nothing. She was with me."
Dana's pen stopped. "Explain."
I felt Marta's hand brush my sleeve, a warning to stop. I couldn't. This was the plea I'd made barefoot on that bed — don't fire anyone — now sitting concrete on a desk in yellow highlighter.
I forced myself to look at Dana. "I got sick Tuesday night. Dizzy. I went into the master bedroom to turn down the bed and I couldn't stand up straight. I threw up in the master bath. Marta found me on the floor."
Dana stared. "You went into Mr. Russo's suite while he was in residence?"
"Yes." My cheeks burned. "I thought I could finish fast and get out. Then the room tilted. I remember the cold tile. After that—" I swallowed. "I woke up in his bed."
The silence in that little office was so complete I could hear the wall clock ticking.
Marta inhaled sharply. "Chloe—"
Dana set her pen down carefully. "You slept in the employer's bed. And you didn't report it."
"I panicked," I said. "I thought if I reported it I'd be fired. I thought she'd be fired for helping me. I told Mr. Russo I'd leave and not to—" I stopped, my throat closing. "I asked him not to fire anyone."
Dana leaned back. "Jesus, Chloe. Do you understand what this looks like? Unauthorized use of the master bedroom, unreported illness on duty, falsified time. I have to escalate this."
The door behind us opened without a knock.
Mr. Russo stepped in in a dark sweater and jeans, his hair damp like he'd just showered. He didn't look at the time sheets first. He looked at me, then at Marta, then at Dana.
"Dana," he said evenly. "Leave Marta's name off the cut list."
Dana stood halfway. "Mr. Russo, I didn't—"
"I told Chloe to stay in that bed," he said.
I turned to stare at him. The office felt too small for his voice.
He kept his eyes on Dana. "She was sick in my suite. I found her on the bathroom floor. I couldn't get her to urgent care alone without dropping her, so I put her on the bed to keep her warm and monitored. I told her not to get up. I gave her water. That's the gap in your sheet."
Dana's mouth opened, then closed. "Sir, with respect, that should have gone through me. Or security. There's no incident report."
"That's on me," he said. "I made a judgment call at night instead of waking the house. I'll put it in writing."
Marta's shoulders sagged like someone had cut a string holding her up. She pressed her fingers to her mouth.
Dana picked up her list, uncertain. "So you're saying the time theft—"
"Wasn't theft," Russo said. "Marta stayed to help a sick coworker because I asked for help moving her. If you need to write someone up for process, write me up."
For a second nobody breathed. Then Dana crossed out Marta's name with a single hard line. She didn't throw the list away.
"Fine," she said. "Firing's paused. But I can't bury unauthorized bedroom use, even with your note. I'm opening a formal inquiry. Both of them will be interviewed. There will be a report in their files until it's cleared."
I nodded, my hands shaking. Paused felt like air after being underwater, but exposed felt like standing under that buzzing light with everyone able to see the wrinkle in my pants.
May you like
Russo glanced at me once more, his expression restrained. "Understood."
Dana capped her pen. "Chloe, you're off floor rotation until the interview. Marta, you're back on days pending review. Meeting tomorrow at nine. Door's about to lock—" She looked toward the hallway as footsteps approached from the main house, loud enough to carry through the thin walls.
