fiction
A Man Attacked the Mafia Boss—Then a Waitress Knocked the Weapon From His Hand With Her Tray / Chapter 10 / 10

Chapter 10 - The Last Tray

Five years after Emmett’s passing, the Ardmore Club celebrated its centennial anniversary with a grand banquet that filled every seat in the second-floor dining room.

Margot Seer now stood at the head of the service line as the club’s general manager, wearing a tailored navy suit instead of the traditional black service jacket. Her hair was still tied back with a neat band, and her eyes were just as sharp and observant as they had been on the night she stopped the knife with a brass serving cover.

The dining room was filled with laughter, clinking crystal, and the warm glow of beeswax candles reflecting off gold-rimmed china. No one whispered in fear anymore; the club had evolved into a respected, legitimate institution of Boston society, stripped of its old, violent shadows.

Yet, tradition remained sacred.

As the evening’s keynote speaker stood to raise a glass to the club’s history, a young waitress moving nervously along the side wall stumbled slightly, her silver tray wobbling dangerously as a crystal water pitcher began to tip toward the edge.

Without missing a beat, Margot stepped forward, her hand shooting out with lightning speed to steady the tray before a single drop of water could hit the polished oak floor.

The young waitress looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes, expecting reprimand, anger, or dismissal.

Margot smiled gently, her expression softening into something warm and reassuring. She reached out, adjusted the girl’s grip on the silver handle, and spoke the words Ada Boon had spoken to her a decade ago, and the words Emmett Ror had lived by every single day of his life:

“Keep your balance, hold your ground, and never drop the service.”

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The young girl nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath. Her shoulders relaxed, her grip tightened, and she walked proudly back into the light of the dining room.

Margot watched her go for a moment, her fingers brushing the smooth metal token hidden safely inside her jacket pocket. Then she turned, walked back toward her office, and closed the door softly behind her, ready for whatever tomorrow’s ledger might bring.

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