Chapter 12 - The Midnight KitchenDown in the east wing quarters, Naomi had already changed out of her champagne-soaked uniform.
She wore plain black trousers and a soft gray sweater. Her duffel bag sat packed on her small narrow bed. She had expected this outcome. In her line of work, once the veil was pulled back, you didn't stay. You packed your gear and disappeared into the night before the questions started.
She picked up her bag and walked quietly toward the rear staff exit.
As she passed through the main kitchen, she stopped.
Ethan was sitting at the marble island in the dark, illuminated only by the faint blue glow of the courtyard lights outside the high windows. A single untouched mug rested between his hands.
"You don't have to leave through the back door, Naomi," Ethan said softly without turning around.
Naomi paused near the oak door. "It’s force of habit, Mr. Whitmore."
Ethan turned his stool to face her. He looked at the duffel bag slung over her shoulder, then up at her face. "My grandfather showed us your file."
Naomi didn't flinch. "I see."
"He told us about Philadelphia. About Hale Security." Ethan let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. "All those late nights... I thought I was drinking tea with a quiet girl who felt sorry for a stressed executive. I had no idea I was sitting across from someone who’s survived actual war."
"It wasn't a lie, Mr. Whitmore," Naomi said quietly, stepping closer to the island. "I was just a girl drinking tea. The rest of that life... I left it behind because I couldn't carry the weight of it anymore."
"I'm sorry," Ethan said, looking down at his hands. "For what Vanessa did. For putting you in a position where you had to defend yourself in front of three hundred people."
"You don't owe me an apology," Naomi replied. "You treated me like a human being when most people in your position wouldn't have noticed my name. That’s why I stayed as long as I did."
Ethan looked up, his gray eyes locking onto hers. "Where will you go?"
"Somewhere quiet," Naomi said, offering a small, genuine smile. "Where nobody throws champagne."
May you like
Before Ethan could reply, the heavy brass clock on the kitchen wall began to chime midnight.
And at that exact second, every light in Whitmore House went pitch black.
