They Fired the Pregnant Chef, Then Chaos Hit the Hotel Chapter 04

They Fired the Pregnant Chef, Then Chaos Hit the Hotel Chapter 04

Back-of-House Procurement was responsible for purchasing and distributing the hotel’s basic supplies.

Everything moved through this department: kitchen towels, disposable gloves, cleaning products, napkins, conference-room notebooks, and housekeeping fragrance refills.

The department was thinly staffed. Besides me, there were a few interns and a handful of older employees waiting for retirement.

The woman at the desk beside mine was named Mia. She was a hospitality management senior interning here.

She was naturally friendly, almost too friendly. She moved quickly and helped me unload my boxes.

Then she clicked her tongue and said, “Olivia, I heard you were transferred to Procurement because you wanted to keep your baby. Is that true?”

I lowered my head and unpacked my things. I said nothing.

For all I knew, she was no different from the young cooks in the banquet kitchen.

Maybe she only wanted to watch me fall.

The silence stretched awkwardly, but Mia kept talking.

“Honestly, I think that rule is pretty unfair. Don’t you?”

“You and Chef Sophia don’t even work the same station. Your jobs are different. Both of you being pregnant wouldn’t affect service. I have no idea what management was thinking.”

“But Procurement really has no future. Olivia, what will you do after giving birth?”

“Mia, stop running your mouth,” someone beside us warned her.

“Did you forget what happened last time you complained to management that Procurement pay was too low? He lectured you for an entire morning.”

“If it isn’t our business, stay out of it. Do you still want them to offer you a full-time position or not?”

Mia did not stop moving. She helped arrange my desk and mumbled, “I just think it’s unfair. It doesn’t affect the hotel’s work. What’s wrong with being pregnant?”

I finally looked up at her.

She had a likable baby face.

“It’s all right,” I said. “Procurement is fine.”

For the next three days, I went to work and went home on time. I did my job and nothing beyond it.

There was no more endless overtime. I no longer had to monitor banquet orders, check guests’ allergy notes, or run between eight burners at once.

For once, life did not feel so hard.

Sometimes people from the banquet kitchen came over to pick up office supplies. When they spoke to me, the old politeness was gone.

Now contempt sat plainly in their voices.

It was the contempt of kitchen staff for people hidden in the back of the house.

“Olivia, it’s a shame to see you reduced to this.”

Without changing my expression, I handed her disposable gloves and a logbook.

“I think it’s fine.”

The young cook curled her lip.

“I think you’re letting the baby trap you. Do you really have to keep it? Pregnancy hormones are scary.”

But she did not know.

This was not about pregnancy hormones.

It was not only about the baby.

What I wanted was fairness. Justice. Real equality.

Not a system where someone with connections could block every path I had earned.

The change came on the fourth day.

I had just gotten off work when my phone vibrated.

One message came in, then another, then another, until my phone had vibrated eighteen times.

Eighteen messages.

Exactly the number of line cooks and prep staff in the banquet kitchen.

Every message meant they had run into a problem they could not handle.

Before I could open the chat, the kitchen manager’s call came in.

The banquet kitchen was chaos on the other end of the line.

“Olivia, answer everyone’s messages right now. Hurry.”

My grip tightened around the phone. My voice stayed quiet, but firm.

“Why should I?”