My Wife Killed Her Parents

My in-laws, Melvin Gardner and Sharon Murphy, kept it a secret from us and traveled all the way to Metoville to surprise their daughter, Vivian Gardner.

I brought them to the restaurant where Vivian worked as head chef, thinking she would give them a proper welcome and a great meal.

However, Vivian called over her favorite pretty-boy apprentice, Tyler Lambert, and had him handle a batch of wild-harvested oysters from the deep sea. These rare specimens were notorious because they may carry Tetrodotoxin if not purged with extreme precision—a high-stakes task that even the seasoned chefs usually avoided.

Tyler frowned and whined at her, "Oh come on, Chef, these oysters are so tricky to prepare. I'm not sure I can handle them..."

Vivian just laughed it off. "Just give them a quick rinse, and you're done. They're just a couple of old country folks. There's no need to fuss."

Melvin and Sharon ate the oysters. Within ten minutes, they were foaming at the mouth and collapsed on the table.

When Vivian rushed over, she did not even bother to look at the two elderly people. Instead, she was busy comforting Tyler, who had gone pale and fallen into her arms.

She said, "If they got food poisoning, send them to the hospital. But make sure they sign a liability waiver before they leave."

She glanced at me casually, her tone suggesting the poisoned elderly couple had nothing to do with her. "Your parents are from the countryside, so they're probably not used to city food. Don't try to pin this on the restaurant or Tyler!"

It hit me that she still had not realized the people who had collapsed at the table were her own parents.

I looked at her helplessly and confirmed, "Are you sure you want to clear 'Tyler' of all responsibility?"

Vivian Gardner clicked her tongue in irritation. "Ezekiel Stevens, are you deaf?!"

She snatched a printed "Food Safety Liability Waiver" from her assistant's hand and slammed it down in front of me. "Sign it now! Tyler's sensitive, so don't scare him!"

The apprentice in her arms, Tyler Lambert, was trembling.

He stole a glance at me, then said in a pitiful, tearful voice, "Vivian, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have tried to impress them. I'll take full responsibility, even if it means getting on my knees and begging for forgiveness."

Vivian immediately covered his mouth tenderly, showing a gentleness I never saw from her before.

"Don't say that! This has nothing to do with you. It's their own weak stomachs! Besides, unlike normal oysters, these oysters are high-end ingredients. It's normal for country folks like them not to be used to it."

I pointed at my in-laws, Melvin Gardner and Sharon Murphy, who were now convulsing on the table, and said slowly and deliberately, "Vivian, this isn't the time to assign blame. Call 911 and get them help!"

However, she acted like she heard the funniest joke in the world and sneered. "Get them help?"

She crossed her arms and did not even glance at the two elderly people desperately in need of medical attention. "Do you think the ambulance is free? You think getting their stomachs pumped at the hospital doesn't cost money? If you don't sign this waiver, I'm not paying a single cent! Let them go back to their village and see some backwoods doctor!"

As soon as she finished speaking, all the diners in the restaurant turned to stare at us in shock.

However, Vivian did not care at all. Instead, she raised her voice even louder and pointed her finger at my nose.

"Ezekiel, get this straight. This is my restaurant, and at Cloud Nine, I'm the one in charge! Your parents' lives are in my hands right now! If you don't sign this, they're dying right here!"

Tyler peeked out from behind her and shot me a mocking smile.

When I still did not move, Vivian lost her patience. She suddenly lunged forward and knocked over the wine glass on the table. After that, she grabbed my hand, dipped it in the spilled red wine, and forcibly pressed my fingerprint onto the bottom of the waiver.

"There. Now we're even." She flung my hand away in disgust.

Then, she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and vigorously wiped her hands, as if she touched something filthy. After that, she turned around and instantly became tender and sweet again when facing Tyler.

"Tyler, go to the hospital for me. Keep an eye on them and make sure they don't try to scam us. I have an interview with a food critic tonight, and I can't miss it."

She was not even willing to go to the hospital herself. I watched her walk away without looking back, then pulled out my phone and took a clear photo of the liability waiver she forced my fingerprint onto.

After that, I dialed 911.