„Ești concediată!” — a spus soția milionarului… fără să știe că el auzea tot.

Cristina Florescu had been working in the Munteanu family villa on Kiseleff Road for three years. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, from eight to four. Without a single unexcused absence, without a broken object, without a complaint from anyone. She knew Mrs. Simona Munteanu’s standards and respected them—not because she liked them, but because the job was well-paid and she needed them. On a Thursday when she had come in specially at Mrs. Simona’s request for weekend preparations, an original Murano vase, brought from Venice, had fallen off the console and broken. Cristina had not touched it. She had not known that the console’s back leg was broken and that the vacuum cleaner in the next room was destabilizing it. No one had told her. She had gone to Mrs. Simona to announce it and apologize. Mrs. Simona had fired her on the spot. What Mrs. Simona didn't know was that her husband was at the top of the stairs with the office door ajar. That he had heard every word. And that he had known about the console defect for almost a year—he had reported it twice and it hadn't been fixed. Alexandru Munteanu had come down the stairs before Cristina could walk out the door. This is the story of what happens when a simple injustice is seen by the right person at the right time. And of a woman who lost a job because of a defect that wasn't hers and who left without asking for anything and without complaining—and that's exactly why she got more than she lost.