Chapter 9 - A VIRAL LIE AND AN UNEXPECTED WITNESS|
Tuesday morning, a second video appeared online.
This one looked different.
The edited footage showed Amara rushing toward Eleanor's wheelchair.
Then the image abruptly jumped to Madison's stained wedding dress.
A caption appeared across the screen.
HOTEL WAITRESS DESTROYS BRIDE'S WEDDING AND CLAIMS SHE WAS SAVING A LIFE.
The footage omitted the wheelchair rolling toward the staircase.
It omitted the damaged brake.
And it made Amara look reckless.
By noon, the video had been shared thousands of times.
A celebrity gossip account called her a fraud.
Another account claimed she had been paid by Eleanor Whitmore to embarrass the bride.
Amara stared at the comments while sitting in the hotel employee lounge.
Jade grabbed her phone.
“Don't read that garbage.”
“They're saying I attacked Madison.”
“They're lying.”
“Somebody edited the video.”
Jade's expression hardened.
“And somebody paid to spread it.”
Vivian Price entered the lounge.
“Amara, can I speak with you?”
Amara stood.
“Am I being suspended?”
Vivian looked surprised.
“No. Absolutely not.”
She placed a printed document on the table.
“Our legal team has identified the first account that uploaded the edited footage.”
Jade leaned forward.
“Who was it?”
“A media consulting company called Northbridge Strategies.”
Amara frowned.
“Never heard of it.”
“It's a crisis-management firm,” Vivian explained. “Their client list includes Patricia Crane's event company.”
Jade let out a bitter laugh.
“Of course it does.”
Vivian continued.
“We're requesting the original upload records. In the meantime, please document any threats or harassment.”
Amara nodded.
But she felt exhausted.
She wanted to attend nursing school.
Work honestly.
Help her mother.
She hadn't asked to become a symbol in somebody else's scandal.
That afternoon, she stopped by the pharmacy near her mother's apartment.
A middle-aged woman approached her near the checkout counter.
“Excuse me. Are you Amara Lewis?”
Amara stiffened.
“Yes.”
The woman glanced around nervously.
“My name is Maya Chen. I used to work at the Hawthorne.”
Amara frowned.
“In what department?”
“Night auditing.”
“What do you want?”
Maya removed a small flash drive from her purse.
“I saw what happened at the wedding.”
“Were you there?”
“No. But I know what happened before it.”
Amara felt her pulse accelerate.
Maya placed the flash drive in her hand.
“There are files on this that the hotel doesn't know exist.”
Amara stared at it.
“Why are you giving it to me?”
“Because I tried giving them to management six months ago.”
“What happened?”
“I lost my job.”
Maya glanced toward the pharmacy windows.
“Please. Don't open it on your own computer.”
Amara lowered her voice.
“What are these files?”
Maya's eyes filled with fear.
“Proof that someone inside the Hawthorne has been stealing employee wages and altering company records.”
Amara froze.
“My missing tips?”
“Your tips are only the beginning.”
Before Amara could ask another question, Maya stepped away.
Then she stopped.
“Oh, and Amara?”
“Yes?”
“Your father worked there before you did.”
Amara's heart seemed to stop.
May you like
Maya swallowed.
“He disappeared after asking the same questions you're asking now.”
