My Boss Ruined My Face, But a Billionaire Guest Revealed My Real Identity

The Poison in the Polish

Valerie stepped in front of Marshall, trying to block his view of the weeping chef. "She is hysterical, Marshall!" Valerie lied smoothly, though a bead of sweat rolled down her temple. "She has been abusing substances, and she’s having some kind of psychotic episode. I want her off my property before she ruins this evening for everyone." But Marshall ignored the desperate hostess. He gently took Sabrina by the shoulders, guiding her to a chair, and pulled a clean white handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the red fluid from her cheek.

As he looked at the stained cloth, his eyes narrowed. He brought it to his nose, sniffing the sharp, chemical odor. "This isn't blood, and it certainly isn't drugs," Marshall announced, his voice carrying across the silent dining room. "This is an industrial-grade chemical irritant mixed with red dye. It’s a highly toxic compound used to strip industrial ovens—and it is kept locked in the manager’s private office."

A collective gasp echoed through the restaurant. Sabrina sobbed, her voice trembling as she spoke through the pain.

"I went to use my eye drops in the locker room... the bottle was on my shelf, but the moment I put them in, my face began to burn. I didn't know what was happening."

Valerie’s face drained of color, turning as white as the linens. It was then that John, who had remained silent in his tuxedo, finally stood up. The passive mask melted away, replaced by a cold, calculating resolve. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick manila envelope, throwing it onto the table.

"It’s over, Valerie," John said quietly. "I know you spiked her locker. I saw you on the security feed this afternoon, and I have the forensic audit of the restaurant's accounts right here. You've been embezzling from us for years, and you tried to blind Sabrina because she discovered your dual ledgers."