Jonathan stood helplessly.
“Charlotte—stop. She’s having an episode.”
“She’s spoiled!” Charlotte snapped back.
“She needs discipline!”
Marcus rushed over, pale.
“Mr. Blackwood, perhaps a private room—”
“She can’t move!” Jonathan shouted.
“Can’t you see she’s frozen?!”
Phones were coming out.
This was a PR nightmare.
Emily didn’t think.
She grabbed a heavy linen napkin and a glass of ice water—but instead of approaching the table, she walked to the light control panel near the kitchen.
She dimmed the lights in the entire section by half.
Then she walked straight to Table One.
“Get away from us,” Charlotte snapped.
“We don’t need a waitress.”
Emily ignored her.
She knelt beside the screaming child.
She didn’t touch Lucy.
She didn’t speak.
Emily draped the napkin over her own head, forming a small white tent.
She sat cross-legged on the floor, completely still.
The screaming faltered.
Lucy stared at the absurd sight—a grown woman sitting under a napkin.
Slowly, Emily lifted one corner.
She raised three fingers.
Then two.
Then one.
She dropped the napkin.
The lights were dimmer.
The noise was softer.
The terrifying woman was standing—but this strange person was safe.
Lucy crawled forward.