What a fine phrase. He wouldn't press charges.

A handful of words, and just like that I was pinned to the pillar of shame, as if I really had done something I couldn't show my face over.

It was the old trick, punish one to warn the rest. He stained my name, and he froze my heart clean through.

I looked at my daughter for a long moment, and swallowed every word I had.

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

The second the transfer went through, Bernard smiled.

"Mom, now that's more like it. As an elder, you should think of the kids more, not spend all day trying to bleed them dry."

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

Then he lifted his phone, turned to face every worker in the restaurant, and raised his voice.

"Everybody see that? Take something from the restaurant, and it doesn't matter who you are or how we're related, the fine applies all the same."

"Even my own mother-in-law took one bottle of water today, and she still gets fined ten thousand."

"Anybody tries it again after this, don't blame me for going hard."

The few servers glanced at one another. Nobody said a word.

Olivia checked the time and announced flatly, "All right, we're closed. Everyone head home."

The staff filed out one by one.

Only the few of us were left.

Seeing that my face had gone dark, Olivia softened her tone a little. "Come on, Mom, the staff were all right there. Of course I had to keep it professional and not play favorites with you."

"Once we lock up, let's all go out and have a meal as a family. Don't stay upset."

And she leaned in the way she used to as a little girl, wheedling, reaching to take my arm.

I gently moved my arm out of her reach.

"No."

"You all go."

They were the family, after all.

I was just a thief who had to hand over ten thousand for drinking a single bottle of water.

That meal, I simply could not have stomached.

Savannah shot me a look and said mockingly, "Really now, don't tell me you still think you've been wronged?"

"We elders are supposed to have a spirit of sacrifice. While we can still get around, it's only right to help the young ones out, chip in some money, do a little more for them."

"Say you really did steal the restaurant's water. Fine, you deserve the fine. But even if you just handed those young people ten thousand for nothing, so what? Do you really need to stand here sulking over a little thing like that?"

Spirit of sacrifice?

I looked at Savannah, and suddenly I wanted to ask her exactly where her spirit of sacrifice showed itself.

Was it in these five years of idling, never once coming in 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 fed up?

Or maybe it was how she'd lose money at cards and come straight to the register to grab cash so she could go right back to gambling?

If that was what she meant by a spirit of sacrifice, then no, I really didn't measure up to her.

I looked at her and nodded. "You're right. I was wrong."

Where I went wrong was in caring about this daughter too much.

So much that I lost myself.

So much that I gave everything I had.

Lucky for me, there was still time.

This ten thousand would be the new beginning.

Seeing me admit fault, Savannah smiled, satisfied.

"At least there's hope for you, knowing enough to own your mistakes."

"From now on, work harder around here and stop trying to squeeze out little perks all day."

I gave a small smile and said calmly,

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

My daughter shot me a startled look but said nothing.

It was my son-in-law who couldn't wait to speak up.

"Mom, since you're not coming out to eat with us, you can clean the back kitchen, wash all the dishes, and then close up and lock the door."

"Olivia and I are taking my mother out for a late-night meal first."

I nodded. "All right."

Then I turned and walked straight into the back kitchen.

As I stepped into the kitchen, I could still faintly hear Savannah grumbling outside.

"Olivia, your mother really has no sense at all."

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

"She's the one who did wrong in the first place, and she's acting like we abused her."

My daughter sighed, unbothered.

"That's just how she is. Don't stoop to her level."

Savannah said nothing more.

But Bernard still wasn't at ease. He suddenly lowered his voice and asked,

"So we're just going to leave like this?"

"What if your mother gets light-fingered again, alone in here?"

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

"Relax. We've got twenty-four-hour cameras in every part of the restaurant."

"I review the footage every day. Whether she takes anything or not, I know exactly."

Hearing that, I smiled.

No wonder that on the very day I came to help out at the restaurant, my daughter couldn't wait to have cameras installed in every corner.

So they were there to watch me.

What was even more laughable was that she had already seen through the footage that in five years I had never once taken anything, and yet she still let Savannah's slander stand, joining in to pin a dirty little thief's name on me.

This was my daughter.

The good daughter I had poured everything into loving.

Hearing this from her daughter, Savannah finally set her mind at ease and settled in happily to talk with her daughter and son-in-law about where to eat.

Olivia's tone was all warmth.

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

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

Savannah nodded, gratified.

"Good, good. I always knew you were the most devoted of them all."

Once it was settled, Olivia went straight to the back kitchen, leaned half her body through the doorway, and reminded me,

"Mom, Bernard and I are taking his mother out to eat. Remember to lock up the restaurant, and come in early tomorrow to prep the dishes and wash up."

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

I answered flatly, "Fine."

And so the three of them walked out of the restaurant, laughing and chatting.

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

Only me, left standing at the sink in the back kitchen.

I didn't wash the dishes or clean as they'd ordered. The first thing I did was walk over to the surveillance unit and quietly cut the power to every camera.

Then I walked slowly back to the sink.

Looking at the dirty dishes piled high, five years came flickering through my mind, scene after scene, like a film.

I thought of the empty streets at four-thirty in the morning.

I thought of my hands, soaked year after year in freezing water.

I thought of myself, back aching so badly I couldn't straighten up, still bending to mop the floor.

And then I thought of the way the three of them had accused me in front of everyone earlier tonight.

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

"Do something for me."

After I'd gone over everything with the person on the other end, I left the restaurant.

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

Instead I boarded the overnight express train home.

On the train, I saw that Savannah had posted an update.

It was a selfie of her at the steakhouse, captioned:

"My daughter-in-law's so good to me, insisted on taking me out to build me up. Some people are just born to be pampered. There's no fighting it."

I quietly gave it a like.

Yes.

You really are born to be pampered.

I just wonder whether you'll be able to bear the good fortune that's coming next.

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

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

Early the next morning, I was woken by the sharp, urgent ring of my phone.

I picked it up and saw it was my daughter calling.

The moment the call connected, I heard her sobbing, frantic and panicked,

"Mom, where did you go? Something terrible's happened at the restaurant!"