The dining hall had been packed with customers watching us that day. I didn't want to make a scene, and I'd already sunk hundreds of thousands into renovations. Walking away would've been a dead loss, so I agreed.
The second and third times, they pulled the exact same move.
Every single time, they waited until the restaurant was at peak capacity to corner me in front of a crowd.
Then came this time. I'd just finished tallying the annual financials when they showed up demanding half the profits.
But this time, I was done caving：
“And if I say no?”
Brendan's smile froze, and the mask dropped in an instant. His voice turned vicious：
“Then you pack your things and get out of my shop today. I'm taking it back. The lease is done!”
I frowned slightly：“Uncle Brendan, we signed a three-year lease. The contract isn't up yet, and you're already trying to break it?”
Brendan let out a derisive snort：
“So what if I am?”
“Go ahead and sue me!”
Adela chimed in with a cold smirk：
“Exactly. Drag it through the courts for a year or two, and your restaurant sits empty the whole time. No business, no income. The only one bleeding money will be you.”
The moment I heard that, it clicked：
“So you never came here to negotiate. You'd already decided to take my shop and run it yourselves?”
They'd even mapped out the lawsuit scenario. There was no way this was spontaneous.
Brendan didn't bother hiding it anymore：
“That's right!”
“This property is ours. We rent it when we want, we take it back when we want. That's how it works.”
Adela stood there with her hands on her hips, brazen as ever：
“Exactly. And stop acting like we wronged you. Without us, how would you have ever made millions in a year?”
“If you had an ounce of self-awareness, you'd be on your knees thanking us.”
On my knees thanking them.
In under a year, they'd jacked the rent from eight thousand to twenty thousand a month, more than double what any other shop on this street was paying.
And they actually believed I was the one getting the better deal?
I had no interest in arguing anymore. I asked one last time：
“You're sure you want to do this?”
Brendan tilted his chin up, nostrils flared, dripping with contempt：
“What, you think we're bluffing?”
As if to prove his point, he pulled out the lease we'd signed and ripped it to shreds right in front of me.
“The contract's gone. Starting today, this shop belongs to us.”
Then he jabbed a finger toward the storefront next door：
“See that place? We already leased it. Five-year contract, signed and sealed. Once you're out, we're knocking the wall down and opening a seafood buffet twice the size of yours. Bigger, better, the whole nine yards.”
That space used to be a BBQ joint. It was twice the square footage of my restaurant, and the rent wasn't cheap either.
Because it was so large, the place had sat vacant for over a year after the last business folded. Nobody would touch it.
Then, just a few days ago, the "For Lease" sign came down and renovations started.
I'd wondered at the time who had the guts to take on a space that big on a street this quiet. Now I knew. It was Brendan.
Thinking about how much capital he was sinking into this, I couldn't help asking：
“You're really that confident you can pull it off?”
Brendan didn't hesitate：
“Of course.”
“I've been watching your operation for a while now. Your whole business model is just buying seafood, laying it out, and letting customers serve themselves. They grab what they want, boil it or grill it on their own. There's zero skill involved.”
