Chapter 9 - The Manager's Private Ledger| Vance Puit knew something had changed when the finance department stopped answering his calls.
For three years, he had operated the Aster Room as if it were a private kingdom. He controlled the schedules, approved staff evaluations, handled complaints, and decided which mistakes became official records and which vanished into conversations behind closed doors.
He had never considered himself cruel.
Cruelty, in his mind, required intention. He simply believed people worked harder when they were afraid of losing something.
A little pressure. A little humiliation. A few deductions that discouraged carelessness.
That was management.
At least, that was what he told himself.
On Friday morning, he entered his office and found Lena Ortiz waiting beside his desk.
“Ms. Ortiz. I wasn't expecting you.”
“I'm sure.”
She placed a folder on his desk.
“We're conducting a review of payroll deductions and disciplinary actions.”
“I've already submitted everything.”
“You submitted a summary. We need the underlying records.”
“Those records are confidential.”
“They belong to the company.”
Puit's smile faded.
“I assume Julian has been discussing the restaurant with you.”
“Mr. Rock authorized the review.”
“Of course he did.”
Puit opened the folder and saw a list of employee names.
His stomach tightened when he recognized several of them.
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“Unauthorized deductions, retaliation, falsified incident reports, and inconsistencies between scheduled and paid hours.”
“That is an extraordinary list of accusations.”
“It's a list of questions.”
“Questions can damage reputations.”
“So can the answers.”
Lena closed the folder.
“We'll need access to the scheduling system by noon.”
After she left, Puit sat motionless.
Then he unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk.
Inside lay a small black notebook.
It contained no official records, no company letterhead, and no signatures. Just dates, initials, amounts, and brief notes in his own handwriting.
He had begun keeping it after a private event the previous year, when a wealthy guest complained about a missing watch. The watch was later found inside the guest's own coat, but Puit had already pressured two servers into paying for the cost of a security investigation.
He had discovered that employees rarely challenged deductions if the amount was small enough to seem hopeless and large enough to hurt.
The notebook recorded those amounts.
It also recorded payments he had received from a wine distributor who wanted preferred placement on the restaurant's list.
Puit stared at the pages.
He had never thought of the money as theft. The distributor called it a consulting fee. The restaurant still purchased excellent wine. No guest had complained.
But the company would not see it that way.
He closed the notebook and slid it into his briefcase.
A knock sounded at the door.
Priya stood in the doorway, her injured hand bandaged.
“Mr. Puit? Human resources asked me to provide a statement about the accident.”
“Did they?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then provide it.”
She hesitated.
“Should I include what happened afterward?”
Puit's expression hardened.
“What happened afterward?”
“When you told me I would have to pay for the bottle.”
“You misunderstood me.”
“I don't think I did.”
For a second, the young woman looked terrified.
Then she remembered Dela kneeling beside her on the floor.
Priya straightened.
“I'll tell them exactly what happened.”
Puit watched her leave.
He could have stopped her with a threat. He had done it before.
But the woman from corporate was already reviewing the records, and Julian Rock had personally intervened.
For the first time, Puit understood that the problem wasn't a broken bottle.
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It was that the people he had trained to remain silent were beginning to speak.
And he was running out of ways to make them afraid.
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