That afternoon, he confronted Michael.
"You should be careful."
Michael looked at him.
"About what?"
"People here don't like outsiders."
"I used to work here."
"That was years ago."
Michael shrugged.
"I'm just doing my job."
Richard stepped closer.
"You don't know how this place works anymore."
Michael looked at him.
"Maybe."
"But I know how kitchens work."
Richard smiled coldly.
"Then stay in the kitchen."
Michael ignored him.
That evening, Arthur reviewed the hotel's financial records.
Something didn't add up.
Food costs were unusually high.
Waste reports were inconsistent.
Donation records were almost nonexistent.
Arthur looked at Michael.
"You were right."
"About what?"
"Someone is stealing."
Michael frowned.
"How much?"
Arthur showed him the numbers.
"At least $400,000 over four years."
Michael stared.
"From bread?"
"From everything."
Arthur closed the file.
"I need someone I trust."
Michael understood.
"You want me to investigate?"
"I want you to watch."
Michael nodded.
But neither realized Richard was listening outside the office.
That night, Richard made a phone call.
"He's here."
A voice answered.
"Who?"
"James Carter's son."
Silence.
Then:
"Then get rid of him."
Richard swallowed.
"How?"
The voice answered:
"Make him look like a thief."
The next morning, Michael was called into the manager's office.
Richard stood beside a security officer.
Arthur was not there.
Richard placed a folder on the desk.
"Michael, we have a problem."
"What?"
"Missing inventory."
Michael frowned.
"What does that have to do with me?"
"You were seen entering the storage room."
"I work there."
"And leaving with a box."
"It was bread."
Richard opened the folder.
"Three boxes of premium pastries are missing."
Michael stared.
"I didn't take them."
"The cameras show you."
Michael felt his stomach tighten.
"Show me."
Richard turned the monitor.
There was Michael.
Walking through the storage area.
Carrying a box.
But something was wrong.
Michael recognized the footage.
He had carried one box.