Chapter 1

I took my four nephews to the restaurant my husband, Andy Bennett, managed. I always kept a low profile, so I never mentioned I was the owner's wife.

Our bill came to 300 dollars. One of my nephews finished his breadsticks, and since the place offered free refills, he asked for more.

But the cashier barked at him, "Seriously? Five people sharing one entrée? What do you think this is, a charity? If you can't pay, go eat shit. Don't come here and disgust me."

My seven-year-old nephew was so scared that he froze, too timid to say a word.

I stood protectively in front of my nephew. "How can you talk like that? The restaurant offers free refills. It's perfectly normal for us to get more breadsticks. Call your manager over."

She snorted, arms crossed, and laughed mockingly. "I'm the owner's wife. Sure, we offer free refills, but that doesn't mean you can drag your whole family in and share one entrée.

"You're like a sow, popping out kids all over the place. If you can't afford to feed them, don't have them. Now you're here, embarrassing yourself because you can't even afford a meal."

I couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. If she were the owner's wife, then who was I?

Before I could call Andy, she was already dialing him, her voice sweet but commanding. "Honey, get over here right now. Some shameless people showed up. Come help me deal with them."

*****

After she hung up, she looked me up and down with even more arrogance and sneered, "So the kids' dad is dead, huh? Now you and your four kids are here mooching off my restaurant?

"You're a grown woman, but you don't even know how to behave. Shame on you."

Her voice was so loud and sharp that everyone in the restaurant was staring at us.

My four-year-old niece, Celine, who had never seen anyone so nasty, grabbed onto my sleeve and started sobbing.

The other kids were all still young. The oldest was only seven. They'd never been scolded like this before. They thought they'd done something terrible, so they stood there frozen, not daring to make a sound.

I glared at that woman coldly. "Fine, let's wait for your husband. He'll know if my husband's dead or not."

The last time I ate here was three months ago, and the cashier back then was a young guy.

I'd never seen this woman before, so she must've just started working here. But around her neck was the lucky pendant my mom gave Andy.

Five years ago, Andy fell off a mountain while climbing and was rushed to the hospital. The doctors said he'd probably be a vegetable for the rest of his life and never wake up.

Those days were hell for me. My mom was so afraid Andy would never wake up and I wouldn't be able to handle it that she made a pilgrimage for half a month, just to pray for that lucky pendant at St. Grace Abbey.

Andy was a mess, eyes shining with tears, swearing he'd never let me down and would always treat my mom like his own.

From then on, he never took that pendant off. Not even for me, no matter how many times I asked to wear it for a couple of days.

And now, it was hanging from the neck of a woman I didn't even know.

"Why are you so thick-skinned? Can't you understand plain human words? Hurry up and apologize to our boss," the baby-faced girl snapped, swaggering like she owned the place just because she had someone backing her up.

She hovered next to the woman, fawning like some old-school servant, buttering her up. "Don't waste your anger, Aunt Sophie. People like this aren't worth it. Just wait till Mr. Bennett shows up. He'll put them in their place."

Right after she finished, a bunch of waiters swarmed over. They were all faces I'd never seen before.

It was like the whole staff had been swapped out, and every one of them stared at me with more attitude, like they ran the joint.

They started, "You're pretty enough. If you can't afford a meal, go sell yourself. This is a legit business. We don't need freeloaders like you hanging around."

"She totally came here for the free breadsticks refills, right? Sophie, we should record her and blast it online. Let's see if she dares to freeload again."

"For real, we need to expose this kind of trash to set an example. Otherwise, people like her will keep showing up to mooch off us every day."

I could tell that this woman had swapped out all the staff for her own family.

"We paid. We're not freeloading." My five-year-old nephew finally spoke up, his voice trembling but determined.

They scoffed. "Paid? Oh, please. You pay for one meal and try to feed your whole family. Only people like you guys would try to pull that off."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. No wonder your kids act like this."

I glanced at the name tag on that woman's chest. Sophie Carter. Suddenly, I remembered a month ago when I saw a contact labeled "Ms. Carter" on Andy's phone.

Back then, I asked out of curiosity, "Is that a new client?"

He answered without missing a beat, "Yeah."

So it all made sense now.