Everyone ignores the falling twins. Only the Black waitress saves them—without knowing that their father is a millionaire.
The rooftop terrace of the Asteria floated above the city like a white ship. Sixty-four floors up, the skyline ran forever under a hard blue sky. Tables wore linen. Guests raised glasses. No one looked at the rail.
Two little boys did. Twins. Twins. White. Five at most—matched down to teal vests, crisp white shirts, navy shorts, white socks, and black shoes. They chased a napkin that a breeze had stolen, laughing as it skittered toward the terrace edge.
Their father, mid-conversation, gestured with a glass. The nanny stared at her phone. They smiled and turned back to toasts. Everyone assumed someone else was watching them.
Nia Campbell was.
She was the Black waitress in a bright red uniform with a white apron and headpiece. Yellow cleaning gloves were pulled up to her elbows after….Read Full Story Here………………….
