Mrs. Anna Shaw had come from her hometown for Independence Day, and I took her to dinner at my husband's newly opened upscale restaurant.
I ordered her favorite dish, braised fish, but after taking a bite, she discovered it was stone cold, with ice crystals even visible inside.
I called the manager over, but she was blasé:
"Oh — I forgot to microwave it."
I was puzzled: "You sell pre-prepared meals here?"
She snapped back, voice high as if flustered:
"What's wrong with pre-prepared meals? Can't they be eaten after heating? We don't have the time to cook them fresh for you!"
I pointed at the restaurant sign: "It clearly says we cook only fresh produce. How dare you serve frozen pre-prepared dishes? Is that what your boss taught you?"
She put her hands on her hips and said arrogantly:
"I'm the owner of this place! You and this old woman are being picky. Aren't you just trying to get a free meal?"
"I'm telling you, this fish is non-refundable once it's opened. Including the electricity and stock for the freezer, you owe our restaurant three thousand dollars. If you don't pay today, don't even think about leaving this door!"
Three thousand dollars for a pre-prepared fish?
I wondered why Ethan had suddenly gone into the restaurant business. It turned out he was running a shady operation and supporting a mistress! I was about to call him when she reached him first:
"Honey, come to the restaurant! Two freeloaders are causing trouble here and trying to dine for free!"
——
As if Ethan had given her permission, she grew bolder and pointed at me and Mrs. Shaw, shouting:
"Are all the men in your family dead? You two, a stinking bitch and an old fool, are here to dine for free."
"This is a high-end place. Do you think scum like you deserve to be here?"
"My husband will be here soon. You're finished!"
Her sharp, overbearing voice caught the attention of every other diner. Many waitstaff gathered around, chiming in haughtily:
"I advise you to just pay the bill. Our owner is someone you can't afford to offend!"
"It's true. A few days ago, an influencer visited and had a spat with our owner. Our owner broke her leg and banned her online!"
"How many lives do you have? How dare you act so recklessly in our establishment?"
Mrs. Shaw had been quiet most of her life, and this was the first time she'd been publicly berated.
She went pale, clinging to the corner of my dress and whispering, "Wendy, did we come to the wrong restaurant? This can't be my son's place, right?"
Mrs. Shaw preferred to believe we'd come to the wrong place rather than suspect Ethan of infidelity, and certainly didn't think he would let a mistress overcharge customers.
That's right.
To us, Ethan Shaw was a decent man — honest, filial, and devoted to his wife.
A month earlier, despite being a prominent figure in the financial world, he had suddenly announced plans to open a high-end restaurant.
I asked him why. He said food safety issues were extremely serious these days, and he wanted to create a conscientious restaurant where everyone could eat with peace of mind.
He wanted to free ordinary people from having to eat two-year-old broccoli or frozen meat.
I was pleased by his righteousness and conscience.
I never expected he would invest so much money not to build a conscientious restaurant but to run a shady business and support a mistress! I pulled Mrs. Shaw behind me and said coldly to the woman before us:
"Alright, I'll see what your husband can do for us when he arrives."
At my words, the woman's face darkened. She glared and ground her teeth, saying:
"You bitch, how badly do you want to see my husband?"
The room fell into a hush; nearby tables whispered and stared, forks paused midair, phones were raised by curious diners, and the whole restaurant seemed to be waiting for Ethan's arrival.
