I turned to the judge.
“Victor refused to shut the fryer down because Valentine’s week was our busiest period.”
“That is not true.”
Grace said quietly, “Mr. Hale.”
But he was looking at me now.
Really looking.
The way someone watches a match fall toward gasoline.
I continued.
“When the unit ruptured, oil and steam hit my arm. A storage rack collapsed during the evacuation and crushed me against a prep counter. I suffered two fractured ribs, a punctured lung, burns, nerve damage, and internal bleeding.”
The courtroom had become silent.
“I spent four days in intensive care.”
Victor’s face had changed.
Not dramatically.
Not yet.
But I saw his right thumb rubbing the edge of his wedding ring.
An old habit.
One he had whenever he was nervous.
I almost smiled.
“Victor told the hospital I was injured while visiting.”
He shook his head.
“Claire.”
“He told the insurance company I was not an employee.”
