The next day, I went about my usual routine getting the $8 construction-site boxed lunches ready inside the shop.
When Marcus saw I was still open, he glared at me resentfully and mouthed the word "trash."
There weren't many customers in the shop, so I pulled up Marcus's livestream.
I saw those familiar faces lining up—Derek Lawrence from the rebar crew, workers who usually had a pretty good relationship with me.
Marcus looked sincere as he spoke to the camera: "Brothers, these are the heroes building our city! Does it hurt your heart?"
"If it hurts your heart, send the streamer a gift. Get it up to ten thousand sound waves, and tomorrow I'll keep raising the stakes on the menu!"
"We're doing this so working people can eat a good meal! But someone talks behind my back saying I'm putting on a show! Saying I'm selling meals at a loss as hype!!"
The livestream comments went crazy, flooding the screen:
[Streamer is generous! Marcus really lives up to his name!]
[Who's so heartless? If he's got the ability, let him go hype something up!]
[It's definitely that black-hearted boss across the street—he has no business, so he's panicking!]
Black-hearted boss? They were talking about me?
I was so mad I turned off the livestream. I'd done conscientious business for three years, and in the end I was being called a black-hearted merchant?
That afternoon, a group of workers came over aggressively, Derek Lawrence in front.
Derek's face was full of anger. "Alex, you're not decent. You talk bad about Marcus behind his back, and you even said we're idiots who got scammed?"
"He's doing a good thing and giving us benefits, and if you're jealous then you're jealous—why do you have to spread rumors?"
My heart sank. "Derek, I never said that. You know what kind of person I am. That influencer deliberately made up rumors and stirred you guys up."
"Still arguing!" someone shouted. "Marcus said it on the livestream—you cut corners in your business, and you bully honest people like us!"
"Yeah! You sell $8 boxed lunches, but the cost is only $3. If that isn't black-hearted, what is?"
"Marcus's $3 all-you-can-eat dishes are better than yours—what right do you have to sell yours for $8?"
I took a deep breath. "Everyone, I have purchase invoices. I'll take them out right now and show you."
A voice came from behind the crowd. "Cut it out, you black-hearted businessman. You're feeling guilty so you prepared forged invoices ahead of time."
I looked up and saw Marcus holding up his phone, looking at me with a cold sneer.
His assistants all started shouting.
"It's this place that sells boxed lunches. I saw it with my own eyes—they use rotten vegetables and frozen meat, not fresh."
"We even took photos yesterday. In the back kitchen he was collecting gutter oil—he's definitely reusing it!"
"An $8 boxed lunch—he's definitely cutting corners, otherwise how could he be making a fortune? It's just pitiful for us working laborers!"
Marcus pulled out a photo. It was a shot taken yesterday when I was cleaning residue out of the kitchen drain.
"Everyone, I photographed the evidence of him scooping gutter oil. I've already contacted the health inspector, and I'm definitely going to give the worker brothers an explanation!"
I hurriedly waved my hands to deny it. "This isn't scooping gutter oil—"
Before I could finish, Derek suddenly slammed a fist onto the table. "Damn, frozen meat is one thing, but you're fucking using gutter oil too?!"
"Is there anyone as black-hearted as you? Everyone trusted you, and that's why we ate at your shop for three years!"
The workers around us had already exploded into an uproar.
"You're way too black-hearted! Dragging you to jail wouldn't even be excessive!"
"We've eaten gutter oil for three years—will we be okay?"
"If later on we end up with some kind of chronic illness, who are we supposed to hold responsible?"
Marcus held the photo up to the livestream camera. "Family, since the evidence is conclusive, then we definitely have to hold the boss who makes black-hearted money responsible!"
