The other servers chimed in, "That's right — our Clara is the real Mrs. Shaw."
"You're nothing but a country bumpkin. What right you have to compete with Clara for her husband? I've never seen anyone so shameless, trying to be a mistress."
"Clara, people like her deserve to be taught a lesson."
Clara Lane nodded, then looked at our table and dumped the plate of braised fish, still flecked with ice, onto the floor.
She ground it under her heel and said, voice dripping with contempt, "You told so many lies — aren't you just angling for medicine?"
"Fine."
"Kneel and finish this pre-cooked fish you complained about, and I'll give you the pills."
I shot Mrs. Shaw a desperate look; she lay curled on the floor. She met my eyes and croaked, "No..." Despite all she felt, she refused to see me humiliated on her behalf.
Even after Ethan betrayed her, she had always been gentle with me. She kept telling Ethan to treat me well and never wrong me, or she would disown him. To avoid bringing trouble to Ethan and me, she insisted on returning to her hometown to live alone, and no one could change her mind.
Whenever she visited, she arrived with a bag of local treats. She had always wanted a daughter; she treated me like the child she never had.
I watched as her breathing grew shallow and her face ashen. Without thinking, I dropped to my knees.
Bending forward and swallowing bile, I began to eat the fish, now mashed into fragments on the floor.
I set aside my dignity and everything else, willing to do whatever it took to keep her alive.
Clara pointed at me and crowed with triumph, "Hahaha! — look, doesn't she look like a dog?"
"She complained the fish was pre-made, and now see how she gobbles it down!"
The servers laughed, cruel and loud.
"Clara deserves to be Mrs. Shaw. She knows how to teach people a lesson."
Ignoring their taunts, I forced the fish down, mouthful by mouthful.
When I finally looked up, I pleaded, "I did what you asked. Now give me medicine."
Clara sneered, "Are you stupid enough to believe that?"
"I lied to you."
She tossed the medicine out the window into the ornamental pond. "No!"
I watched the bottle arc and sink. My chest broke open; tears streamed down my face.
At that instant, Mrs. Shaw trembled violently. Her eyes blurred. She stretched a trembling hand and wiped my cheek. "Wendy... I'm sorry."
Her apology sounded like penance — for my shame, or for Ethan's betrayal. Then her hand fell limply.
Her shallow breaths stopped.
"Mom? Wake up! Mom!"
I shook her, desperately, but she did not respond.
Mrs. Shaw was gone.
I never imagined a trip to Ethan's restaurant would end with a vicious woman like Clara killing her right here.
I howled. The restaurant manager knelt to check for breath, then shouted in alarm, "Clara — that old woman looks dead!"
"What now?" people cried.
Clara frowned, annoyed. "She insisted on coming to my restaurant to scam me. If she dies, that's her problem."
People around us froze; cutlery clinked in awkward silence, and phones recorded the scene. Someone called for help while another guest backed away, face pale. The chef peered from the kitchen, stunned, his apron still on. I wanted to scream, to demand justice, but I could only slump beside Mrs. Shaw’s body. Anger, helplessness, and shame swirled inside me. The manager, pale and shaken, fumbled to his phone and dialed the emergency number with trembling fingers, waiting.
"Besides, my husband is the president of the Prosperity Group. He has powerful backing. With him protecting me, what’s there to fear?"
Hearing this, the waiters, who had been tense a moment ago, breathed a sigh of relief.
Seeing Clara Lane’s arrogance, fury boiled inside me.
Summoning every ounce of strength, I leapt up and gripped her throat tightly.
"You monster, I’ll kill you!"
In that instant, I wanted to avenge Mrs. Shaw’s death!
"Damn it! How dare you touch our boss lady?"
One waiter shouted and kicked me.
The others rushed over, fists and feet pounding me. Blows rained down, knocking me to the floor.
Agony ripped through me, my whole body breaking apart, but Clara Lane wasn’t satisfied.
She coughed, clutching her throat. When she regained her breath, she glared at me.
"You bitch! No one has ever dared lay a hand on me. Today, I’ll show you the price!"
She snatched a knife and fork from the table.
With a vicious thrust, she stabbed them into my thigh.
Blood gushed out, searing pain tearing through me.
I didn’t scream. Instead, with red eyes, I shouted at her, "Clara Lane, you’re going to die. You’ll definitely die!"
"Still daring to threaten me?" she shrieked.
Furious, she stabbed me again and again, treating me like a target.
Just as I thought my life was ending, someone suddenly cried out:
"Boss Shaw is here!"
