"The financial reports showed a profitable restaurant. The employee complaints told a different story. I needed to know which version was real."
"So you decided to become one of us?"
"For a few days. I know that's not the same as depending on this place for a living."
"I told you about my mother," Olivia said. "I told you things I don't tell people I work with. I gave you food because I thought you might be hungry. I warned you about Marcus because I thought you could lose your job. And the whole time you knew he couldn't really take it from you."
Ethan nodded. "Yes."
"I don't know what was real, then. Was any of it real? Or were you watching to see whether I'd be kind enough to deserve something?"
The question struck more deeply than Marcus's accusations. Ethan had hoped his intentions would distinguish his concealment from manipulation, but he saw how little comfort that offered Olivia. A person who knows the terms of a relationship and hides them has an advantage over someone who does not, even if the hidden facts are meant to serve a good purpose. He could not ask her to ignore that imbalance simply because he was wealthy enough to make the story end pleasantly.
"The work was real," he said. "The kindness you showed was real, and so were the conversations as far as I was concerned. But I withheld something that would have changed how you understood them. I never used what you told me against you, and I won't, but I still wasn't honest."
"You could have told me after the first day."
"I could have. I should have told you when the investigation reached the point where I knew it would become formal. I was afraid the truth would change how people treated me, and I let that fear become an excuse."
Olivia gave a short, bitter laugh. "So you tested me."
"I wanted to see the truth about the restaurant. But I never had the right to make you feel foolish for trusting me."
She looked away for a long moment. "I don't care that you're rich, Ethan. I care whether the person standing in front of me is honest."
"Then judge me by what I do next. You don't owe me forgiveness because I'm your boss. You don't owe me a conversation tonight, either."
She folded the clipboard closed. "That's the first sensible thing you've said since you walked out of the dish room."
Ethan accepted the answer without defending himself. He wanted to tell her how much her acts of kindness had meant, how they had reminded him of the company he once imagined, and how deeply he respected the way she cared for the other employees. But those were feelings she had not asked him to place upon her. An apology, he realized, had to leave room for the other person to remain angry.