Chapter 2

Although they were yelling in pain, they didn't look sick at all. They looked better than I did.

"Take us to the hospital for a full check-up, or this isn't over. And from now on, you have to give us half of the restaurant's income. Those customers are all from us." Rosalia said it like it was completely normal.

I was floored by how shameless she was.

They brought in at least fifty people every day, and charging them 2 dollars didn't cover the cost.

The normal profit margin per customer was about fifty percent.

Was I supposed to end up paying out of my own pocket to cook for them?

I clenched my fists, gritting my teeth. "You're falsely accusing me of serving bad food. Aren't you afraid I'll call the police?"

Rosalia laughed. "The police? Tanya, you're so naive. We're all older people, struggling to get by. Go ahead and see what the police will do."

Their wailing filled the whole restaurant, and I shivered.

Grace stepped closer. "Tanya, this place has been around for fifty years, right?"

She looked around the restaurant, lowered her voice, and smirked. "You don't want your family's restaurant to be ruined because of you, do you?"

I took a step back, my back hitting the wall. The cold touch snapped me back to reality.

This place was my parents' life's work, but they definitely wouldn't want anyone using it to threaten me.

"So, what do you think?" Rosalia snapped, sounding fed up.

I took a deep breath and made up my mind.

I nodded.

Rosalia and Grace exchanged a look.

Rosalia's face lit up with a huge grin. "Tanya, you're a smart girl. Get a car and take us to Horizon Health Center now."

That was where Rosalia's son worked.

I didn't say anything else. I pulled out my phone and ordered two vans.

*****

Half an hour later, we arrived at Horizon Health Center. A man greeted us with a big smile and ushered us into a small room.

Rosalia shot him a look.

He caught on instantly and started typing rapidly on his keyboard.

He looked up at me. "Fifteen people. That's 50 thousand in total. Please pay at the front desk."

I knew they'd make it expensive, but I didn't expect them to try to drain me.

I hesitated for a split second.

Rosalia's sharp voice cut through the air. "What are you waiting for? Don't you want your restaurant anymore?"

I pulled out my phone and used a few bank cards and credit cards until I finally got 50 thousand together.

Once I finished paying, Rosalia let out a sigh of relief and gave my shoulder a pat. "Good."

Her eyes flickered. "One more thing. Get ready for Thanksgiving gifts this year. There are 100 of us. Make sure the gifts are decent."

Rosalia said it like it was totally normal.

I clenched my fists, my shoulders shaking slightly.

Every holiday, I gave them small gifts as a kindness. I didn't expect it would make them more demanding.

"Rosalia, this is—" I started.

Before I could finish, Rosalia cut me off. "No? Fine, we'll keep accusing you."

I frowned. "Mrs. Gibson, you saw it yourself. I barely have any money left."

Rosalia straightened her clothes. "No money? Well, don't you still have a house and a car? Or you can sell the restaurant to pay it off."

"I'll buy it for 20 thousand," Grace said, jumping to her feet.

I had paid 500 thousand for this restaurant and apartment combined. How could she think 20 thousand was enough to buy it?

When Grace's son was injured, I fought for him to get compensation from his employer. And when Rosalia's grandson had trouble getting into school, I pulled strings to help them out.

A painful feeling spread through me. In the end, I gave them my jewelry before they let me go.

By the time I got back to the restaurant, it was already night. I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

*****

The next day, I unlocked the door.

At lunchtime, Rosalia came in with twenty-some people straight into the kitchen.

She saw me throw the leftovers into the trash and screamed, "What are you doing?"

I didn't stop. My tone was flat. "Throwing away leftovers."

Rosalia was so mad that she was shaking.

"Is there a problem with me throwing away my leftovers?" I said, totally unfazed.

They all looked pissed.

"If you're done here, get out," I said and looked at them coldly.

Rosalia picked up a bowl and threw it on the floor.

I pulled out my phone. "Hello, 911? Someone is causing trouble at 18 Willow Street."

When they saw I was calling the cops, they exchanged looks and left reluctantly.

I thought that was the end of it.

I thought if I waited until I sold the restaurant, they wouldn't be able to do anything anymore.

However, I never expected them to be so crazy.

That afternoon, a video went viral online.

When I opened it, my eyes widened in shock.

In the video, Rosalia was crying. "Howard's Kitchen is filthy. We ate there yesterday, and more than a dozen of us ended up in the hospital."

Grace showed the medical records from yesterday, listing food poisoning. "And she used to give us spoiled food and asked us to bring her more customers."

The rest kept talking over each other, saying I mistreated them.

My hand was trembling as I held my phone. I tried to report the video, but it was useless.

While I was calling nonstop to get the video taken down, a few loud crashes suddenly came from outside.

I rushed straight to the front of the restaurant.

The windows were smashed, and glass was all over the floor.

I stared at the shattered glass, my eyes red with anger.

A few messages popped up, snapping me back to my senses.

Rosalia: [Tanya, this is what you get for not cooking for us. You'd rather dump it than give it to us. That's unbelievable. By the way, the authorities already seem to know about this. They'll probably come check soon]