The next day, she told me what happened. She didn’t embellish, didn’t try to make herself a victim — she simply recounted the events, her voice trembling when she mentioned the look people gave her.
As I listened, my chest ached. Anger bubbled beneath the surface, but more than that, I felt an overwhelming need to make Jessica truly see the harm she had caused.
Setting the Stage
I made a reservation at the same restaurant for the following week — and specifically requested Jessica as our server. I invited my friend Jules, a professional photographer, to join me.
We dressed as if we were attending a formal dinner. I wanted Jessica to believe she was serving customers who might leave a generous tip — the kind of night that could make a server’s week.
We ordered the most expensive items on the menu. Appetizers, wine, entrées — even dessert. We were polite and friendly, giving no indication of what was coming.
The Envelope
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