***
Ivy wiped sweat from her temple with the back of her wrist, the silk blouse sticking to her skin. The night had turned hotter than expected — or maybe it was just the weight of pretending she wasn't drowning.
She had told herself this job was only about the money. Five thousand a month. Enough to stop counting pennies like they were breaths. Enough to stop the late-night panic attacks where she calculated how many more weeks she could survive before the loan sharks stopped sending notes and started sending people.
But standing here in the middle of all this fake elegance, memories kept slipping through the cracks.
Her mother's tired smile the night she left when Ivy was fourteen. The empty fridge. The way Ivy had learned to smile at landlords and say "next week" like it was a promise instead of a prayer. The nights she wrote stupid little notes in her notebook just to feel like someone was listening.
*You're not that girl anymore,* she told herself. *You're the girl who got hired on the spot by Aiden Vale.*
She almost laughed at how ridiculous that sounded.
"New girl." A sharp voice cut through her thoughts.
A tall blonde in the same uniform stepped into her path near the service station. Perfect makeup. Sharper smile. The silver rose on her collar looked like it had been there forever.
"Sasha," the woman introduced herself without warmth. "I've been here eight months. You're Ivy, right? The one Mr. Vale hired personally."
The way she said it made it sound like an accusation.
"Yeah, that's me," Ivy replied, keeping her tone light. "Still trying not to drop trays on important people."
Sasha let out a short laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "Cute. Most of us actually earned our spots. Just a friendly warning — don't get too comfortable. Girls who catch the boss's attention tend to disappear when the novelty wears off."
Ivy raised an eyebrow. "Is that a threat or workplace advice?"
"Call it reality." Sasha leaned in slightly. "This place eats dreamy little girls who think they're special. Stick to serving drinks and staying invisible. That's how you last."
She walked off before Ivy could respond, hips swaying like she owned the marble floors.
Ivy exhaled through her teeth. "Friendly, my ass," she muttered. "Note to self: Sasha wants to be queen bee. Duly noted."
Elijah appeared beside her a minute later, sliding a fresh order onto her tray with that easy warmth.
"Don't mind Sasha," he said quietly. "She's been gunning for head server since Mira got promoted. You being hired so fast stepped on her territory."
"Great. So now I have a rival who probably poisons coffee." Ivy picked up the tray. "My life needed more drama."
Elijah grinned. "You'll be fine. You've got spine. Most new girls cry in the bathroom by night three. You're still cracking jokes."
The compliment landed softer than she expected. For a second she let herself feel it — someone noticing she was trying. Not watching her like a puzzle. Just… seeing her.
She worked through the next hour with renewed focus, but the cracks kept showing. During a quiet moment near the bar, her mind wandered back to the last time she'd depended on someone. Her ex who promised stability then vanished when things got hard. Her mother who chose a new life over raising a daughter.
*Never again.*
She was so lost in her head that she almost missed the strange moment.
A man in a dark suit — one she hadn't seen before — slipped something small into Mira's hand near the restricted staircase. Mira's face stayed neutral, but her fingers closed tightly around whatever it was. She glanced around quickly before heading upstairs.
Ivy looked away fast, heart beating harder.
*See nothing. Say nothing.*
But the image stuck.
Later, while collecting empty glasses from a corner booth, she found something tucked under a napkin. Another cream envelope. Thicker this time.
Her name was written on it in the same elegant handwriting.
She slipped it into her apron pocket with shaking fingers, pulse roaring in her ears. Sasha was watching her from across the room with narrowed eyes. Elijah was busy with another table. Mira had disappeared upstairs.
No one had seen.
Ivy stepped into the dimly lit staff corridor, back pressed against the cool wall, and tore the envelope open.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed a little girl — maybe ten years old — standing in front of an old house Ivy didn't recognize. The girl had dark brown hair. Expressive eyes.
It was her.
On the back, written in the same ink:
*Some memories were never meant to come back.*
*Ask Aiden why he's really keeping you here.*
Ivy stared at the photo until her vision blurred.
The little girl in the picture smiled like she still believed the world was kind.
Ivy didn't smile back.
---