What a fine thing to say. Won't press charges.

Just a few words, and she had nailed me to the pillory for good, as if I really had done something shameful.

It was the old trick of making an example out of one man to warn the rest. It stained my name, and it froze whatever was left of my heart.

I looked at my son for a long moment, and swallowed every word I might have said.

Then I quietly took out my phone, scanned Daphne's payment code, and transferred the ten thousand dollars.

The instant the transfer went through, Daphne smiled.

"There, Dad, that's more like it. As an elder, you should be thinking about your children, not sucking your kids dry all day long."

"Consider this money a lesson. Just be more careful from now on."

Then she raised her phone, turned to face every employee in the restaurant, and said loudly:

"Everyone see that? Anyone who takes something from this store, no matter who they are, no matter the relationship, gets fined, no exceptions."

"Even my own father-in-law. He took one bottle of water today, and he gets fined ten thousand all the same."

"Anyone who tries it after this, don't blame me for showing no mercy."

The few servers glanced at one another and said nothing.

My son checked the time and announced flatly:

"All right, closing time. Everyone head home."

The staff filed out one by one.

Then it was just the few of us left in the restaurant.

Seeing that my face had gone dark, my son softened his tone a little.

"Come on, Dad, the staff were all watching. I had to keep it professional, I couldn't play favorites with you."

"Once we close up, let's all go out for a nice dinner as a family. Don't be upset."

I gave a small shake of my head.

"No."

"You all go."

They were the family, after all.

I was just a thief who owed ten thousand dollars for drinking a bottle of water.

That meal, I truly couldn't have stomached.

Andrea shot me a look and sneered.

"In-law, don't tell me you actually think you've been wronged."

"We elders are supposed to have a spirit of sacrifice. While we still can move, doing a little more for the young people, chipping in some money, it's all just what we owe them."

"Never mind that you really did take the store's water and deserved the fine. Even if you handed those young people ten thousand for nothing, so what? Do you really need to pull a long face over such a little thing?"

A spirit of sacrifice?

I looked at Andrea, and suddenly I very much wanted to ask her: where exactly was her spirit of sacrifice on display?

Was it in these five years of idling around, never once coming to help at the restaurant?

Or in the way she'd drag her old girlfriends in every few days to eat and drink for free, bossing the staff around until everyone was sick of it?

Or was it the times she lost money at cards and walked straight up to the register to grab cash and go right back to gambling?

If that was what she called a spirit of sacrifice, then I really did fall short of her.

I looked at her and nodded.

"You're right. It really was my fault."

My mistake was placing too much weight on this son.

So much weight that I lost myself.

So much weight that I gave up everything.

Luckily, there was still time.

This ten thousand dollars would be a new beginning.

When I admitted I was wrong, Andrea smiled, satisfied.

"So there's still hope for you. At least you know how to own up to your problems."

"From now on, work harder around here, and stop scheming for petty little gains all day."

I gave a small smile and said calmly,

"Don't worry. It won't happen again."

My son shot me a surprised glance but said nothing.

Daphne, though, jumped right in.

"Dad, since you're not coming out to eat with us, you can clean up the back kitchen, then close out and lock up for the night."

"Stewart and I are taking my mom out for a late-night bite first."

I nodded. "All right."

Then I turned and walked straight into the back kitchen.

As I stepped inside, I could still faintly hear Andrea grumbling out front.

"Stewart, your father is impossible."

"We only fined him ten thousand dollars. What's with the sour face in front of the staff?"

"He's the one who was in the wrong to begin with, and he acts like we're the ones mistreating him."

My son sighed, unbothered.

"That's just how he is. Don't stoop to his level."

Andrea said nothing more.

But Daphne still wasn't easy about it. She suddenly dropped her voice.

"Are we really just going to leave?"

"What if your dad gets light-fingered again, all alone in the store?"

At that, my son was quiet for two seconds, then said flatly,

"Relax. We've got twenty-four-hour cameras everywhere in the store."

"I review the footage every day. Whether he's taken anything or not, I know exactly what's what."

Hearing that, I smiled.

No wonder that first day I came in to help, my son couldn't wait to have someone install cameras in every corner of the place.

So it had all been to guard against me.

And the more laughable part: he'd already seen from that footage that in five years I had never taken a single thing, and he still let Andrea's slander stand, pinning a filthy little thief's name on me right along with her.

This was my son.

The good son I had poured everything into loving.

Once she heard her son say that, Andrea finally set her heart at ease and settled in to discuss with her son and daughter-in-law where they'd eat.

Stewart's tone was all warmth.

"Mom, you've been up all night gambling at cards lately. You've gotten thin."

"Let me take you to that new upscale steakhouse downtown. Everything there is healthy and nourishing—perfect for building you back up."

Andrea nodded, gratified.

"Good, good, good. I always knew it. You're the most devoted of all."

Once it was settled, Stewart came straight to the back kitchen, leaned half his body through the doorway, and gave me my instructions.

"Dad, I'm taking Daphne and my mother-in-law out to eat. Remember to lock up the restaurant, and come in early tomorrow to prep."

"Somebody booked more than a dozen tables for a graduation banquet tomorrow. I've already taken the deposit, so whatever you do, don't be late."

I answered flatly. "Fine."

And with that, the three of them walked out of the restaurant, talking and laughing.

The moment the door clicked shut, the place went completely silent.

Only I was left, standing at the stove in the back kitchen.

I didn't clean up the way they'd told me to. The first thing I did was walk over to the security recorder and quietly cut the power to every camera.

Then I walked slowly back to the stove.

Looking at the spotless kitchen, five years came back to me one frame at a time, like a movie.

I thought of the empty produce market at half past four in the morning.

Thought of my eyes, red for years from the grease and smoke.

Thought of the burns and knife scars on my hands, some shallow, some deep.

Then I thought of the three of them just now, calling me out in front of everyone.

I stood there a long while before I slowly took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time.

"Do something for me."

Once I'd gone through everything with the person on the other end, I left the restaurant.

That night, I didn't go back to the cheap, cramped rental near the restaurant.

Instead I boarded the overnight train home to my hometown.

On the train, I saw Andrea had put up a new social media post.

A selfie of her at the steakhouse, with the caption:

"My son-in-law's so good to me, insisted on bringing me here to build me back up. Born for the good life—there's just no stopping it."

I quietly gave it a like.

Yes.

You really were born for the good life.

I just wondered whether you'd be able to bear the good fortune coming after this.

A few hours later, I was back in my hometown.

I took a nice long hot shower, then fell into a deep sleep.

Early the next morning, I was jolted awake by my phone ringing hard.

I picked it up and looked. It was Stewart calling.

The moment the call connected, I heard him crying, frantic and panicked.

"Dad, where did you go? Something terrible happened at the restaurant!"