The Wager
Richard clapped his hands.
“Place your bets! Five hundred for my wife, a thousand for the maid. Adrian, grab a camera—we’ll want proof of this comedy.”
Adrian hesitated.
“Father, please. This is cruel. She was only working—”
“Silence!” Richard snapped. “She agreed. Now she entertains us.”
Naomi stood taller. Her eyes shone not with anger but with quiet strength.
“Mr. Harrington,” she said, “when I win—and I will—I demand not just your son’s hand. I demand you apologize publicly for judging me by the color of my skin and the job I hold.”
The crowd fell into an uneasy hush. Richard laughed, waving his glass.
“Fine. When you humiliate yourself, you’ll be fired on the spot. Play the music!”
