Thinking she couldn’t understand a word, Rashid said in Arabic:
— “Tell me, boys, how many of these girls does it take to earn what I spend on a single bottle of wine? I wonder if she even understands the value of the money passing through her hands. Or is she just another pretty face who knows how to carry a plate while her own world falls apart?”
The air in the room seemed to still. Other staff members slowed down, sensing the tension. The floor manager watched from a distance, hesitant to intervene with such a powerful client. Elena stood perfectly still. Her expression didn’t flicker.
Inside, she felt a surge of cold clarity. She understood every word. Elena wasn’t just a waitress; she was a linguistics graduate who had specialized in Middle Eastern languages, dreaming of a career in diplomacy before the crisis hit. She spoke Arabic with near-native fluency, though she never mentioned it to her customers.
In that moment, she thought of everything she had endured—the cold nights in shelters, the long journey to Dubai, the men who thought her dignity was for sale. She remembered her father telling her to never let anyone make her feel small. She remembered her grandmother’s words: “Your character is the only thing no one can take from you.”
Elena took a breath. Then, to the absolute shock of everyone at the table, she responded in fluent, formal Arabic. Her voice was calm, steady, and carried the weight of someone who knew exactly who she was.
She said:
— “Mr. Al-Maktoum, to answer your question: it would take a very long time to earn what you spend in an evening. But let me ask you this. How many millions does it take to buy a genuinely kind heart? How much of your wealth can purchase the resilience it takes to stand tall when everything you love is under threat?”
She continued, looking him directly in the eye:
— “I carry plates, yes. That is my job. But every dollar I earn ensures my brother can finish his education and my mother can get the medicine she needs. I understand the value of money far better than you might think, because I know that for some, a small amount of it is the difference between life and death.”
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