1: 1

When word got out that my dad's grill restaurant was hiring summer help, my best friend insisted on squeezing her daughter in so the girl could "learn something about real life."

In my last life, for the sake of all those years between us, I said yes.

Three days into the job, her daughter came bolting out of the back kitchen with her clothes half undone, screaming that my dad had assaulted her.

A mob of onlookers smashed the grill restaurant to pieces, and my dad became the dirty old pervert everyone wanted to see punished.

He'd been honest and decent his whole life. He couldn't bear filth like that thrown on his name.

That same night, a brain hemorrhage took him.

And the daughter who killed him rode the whole thing to fame, spun into the story of a brave young woman, and pulled in a million followers.

The day we buried my father, she drove past our house in a brand-new sports car and said, smug and light:

"I really owe it all to your uncle. I'd never have gotten rich this fast without him."

Reborn, I'm back on the very day my best friend came knocking.

She held my hand, all smiles and coaxing.

"Come on, let the girl help out at the shop, toughen her up a little. You don't even have to pay her!"

I threw her hand off and said, cold:

"Sorry. My dad's grill restaurant. Sold it just today."

……

"Sold it?"

Mercedes Pruitt's voice shot up, suspicion all over her face.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"Business here is booming. You can't even keep up with the crowds every day. How could you possibly sell it?"

My tone stayed flat, without a trace of anything underneath.

"It's really being sold."

"The paperwork just isn't finished yet, so we're not telling anyone for now."

It was the line I'd worked out in advance.

If the place was being sold, of course we wouldn't be hiring. That was only sensible.

But Mercedes didn't back off. If anything, she switched to pleading.

"My dearest friend, can't you do me this one little favor?"

"Madge won't cost you a cent in wages, she'll just work for free."

"Better she spends her days in your shop than running around out there wasting her time."

To anyone watching, she looked like nothing but a gentle mother worried sick over her daughter.

Last life, she'd done exactly this.

Said the girl had been spoiled soft growing up, that she wanted her to toughen up at the shop.

Kept insisting we didn't have to pay her a thing, that all she wanted was for the girl to get a taste of real life.

Our two families had been neighbors for over a decade.

Mercedes and I had grown up together, best friends. That kind of history was right there between us.

My heart went soft. I didn't think twice, and I said yes.

I never imagined that one moment of softness would bury my entire family.

On Madge's third day at the shop,

she suddenly came tearing out of the back kitchen with her clothes in disarray.

She was crying so hard her whole body shook, sobbing out her story to the passersby.

"Uncle Myron Finch assaulted me! He waited until no one was around and put his hands on me!"

The words were barely out before the front of the shop was packed shoulder to shoulder.

No one wanted to hear my dad's clumsy explanation.

Everyone would rather believe that a girl fresh out of school wouldn't lie.

The crowd worked itself into a frenzy.

Some cursed and swore they'd rid the world of him, some started flipping tables.

In barely more than ten minutes, the grill restaurant was smashed to rubble.

"Old pervert!"

"Looks so decent, and this filthy underneath!"

"Lower than an animal, preying on a kid!"

The curses came from every direction, an endless downpour.

They crushed my whole family until we couldn't breathe.

My dad was fifty years old.

He'd never cut a single corner in his life, never done one thing he had to feel guilty about.

That night, the brain hemorrhage hit.

He was gone without a single word left behind.

And Madge, who killed him,

felt not the slightest guilt. She rode the whole thing to fame instead.

She built herself up as the victimized girl and won sympathy across the whole internet.

In half a month, her following jumped by a million.

Brand deals, live streams, money pouring in.

And my dad became the creepy old pervert the whole internet wanted to see punished.

Even in death, the stain never washed off him.

The day we buried my father, a red sports car pulled up at our door.

Madge's makeup was flawless, her tone breezy.

"I really owe it all to your dad. I'd never have gotten rich this fast without him."

So the free labor had been the lie. What she'd really wanted was a stepping stone to sacrifice.

But this life, I won't give her the slightest chance.

2: 2

I forced the hatred back down and turned her down flat.

"No."

Something like shock flickered through Mercedes's eyes.

She hadn't expected the soft-hearted me to be this firm.

"The fact that there's no pay is exactly why I can't let Madge Sullivan come."

"You're her mother, and you won't take the slightest responsibility for your own daughter."

"Then my family sure can't take on that responsibility either."

Mercedes's face darkened at once.

"Sally Finch, what's that supposed to mean?"

"After all these years as best friends, you won't lift a finger for one little favor?"

I looked at her, my eyes cold, without a trace of warmth.

"So you do remember we're best friends. If we're friends, we should be considerate of each other."

"If you insist on forcing me into something, then we really aren't much of friends at all."

That set Mercedes off on the spot.

Her voice shot up, as if she'd been wronged beyond words.

"Sally Finch, are you all right?"

"You'd cut me off over something this trivial?"

It was the middle of the dinner rush, and the grill restaurant was packed with customers.

One prying stare after another settled on us.

The moment Mercedes noticed, she slipped into performance mode.

"Sally, I really don't understand…"

The tip of her nose went red, and she even squeezed out two tears.

"All I wanted was for my girl to get a little experience. It wouldn't cost you a single cent in wages."

"Fine, you won't help. But do you have to break things off with me over it?"

"Are ten-plus years of friendship really worth nothing to you?"

That little speech swayed the onlookers in a heartbeat.

"Oh my, this best friend is downright heartless, isn't she?"

"Right? The girl isn't even asking for pay. It's nothing, really. Why make such an ugly scene?"

"More than ten years of sisterhood, and she'd cut it off over a thing this small. That's cold and petty."

"Look how pitiful the girl's mother is. She's asking for help in good faith and getting shot down in front of everyone."

Mercedes pretended to wipe her tears, but her sidelong glance slid to me.

There was a flicker of hard-to-catch smugness at the bottom of it.

She was betting on exactly one thing, that I cared about saving face.

As long as public opinion tipped her way, I'd cave in the end just to end the scene.

I didn't panic. Instead I let out a soft little laugh.

"Since everyone's watching anyway, let me lay it all out plainly."

"There's no such thing as a free lunch."

"The second she gets bumped or scraped in my shop, or gets into so much as a spat with anyone, the responsibility lands on me."

"She's your daughter. You won't shoulder that risk yourself, so why dump it on my family?"

At that, the buzz of the crowd dropped by more than half.

Quite a few faces took on a thoughtful look.

"You're lying!"

Mercedes went white in an instant.

"I only wanted my child to get some experience. How can you think so badly of people?"

I held her gaze, my tone colder still.

"Whether I'm reading too much into it, you know best in your own heart."

"Mercedes, a favor is a favor, and risk is risk."

"I'll say it right here, right now. Madge is never, ever setting foot in my shop."

At that, Madge, who'd been waiting outside the door the whole time, came rushing in.

She had just turned eighteen this year, her eyes red-rimmed, looking especially pitiful.

"Aunt Sally, why won't you let me work at the shop?"

"Do you really hate me that much?"

It was this very harmless-looking face that had driven my father to his grave with a false charge on his name.

I clenched my fist hard, just barely holding down the hatred surging up in me.

"Yes, I really don't like you."

"So the two of you can go now."

Madge staggered back two steps, her tears falling harder.

"Aunt Sally, what did I ever do wrong?"

"When little Shelby Abbott's grades were slipping, I was the one who tutored her after school every day, on my own. Have you forgotten all that?"

Her shoulders trembled faintly as she choked out the words:

"I only wanted to come and work hard here."

"The dirty, tiring jobs in the shop, I can do any of them."

"Aunt Sally, please, just let me stay…"

3: 3

This tearful little performance had every heart in the room in her hand.

"Oh, poor thing, she's such a sweet, well-behaved girl!"

"Tutored the kid for free, and now she just wants a place to get some experience, and she gets shot down this cold?"

"The girl's so sincere, she only wants to learn a little. That owner's got no heart at all."

"And she came right out and said she hates kids. A child's feelings are simple. How's she supposed to swallow something like that?"

Even the few customers who'd been on my side had a strange look in their eyes now.

Beside them, Mercedes let a flicker of triumph slip through.

She stepped up and wrapped an arm gently around Madge's shoulders.

"Silly girl, stop begging. We won't force ourselves on people."

Watching the two of them play off each other, mother and daughter, the anger shot straight up in me.

Last semester my daughter's grades fell off a cliff.

I'd already lined up a tutor.

It was Mercedes who came knocking, asking to send Madge over every day to help.

Back then I cooked something different every single day, laid out all kinds of fruit.

Terrified of not treating Madge well enough.

But a whole half a semester went by, and my daughter's grades didn't just fail to improve, they dropped even harder.

Only after I pressed her again and again did my daughter quietly tell me the truth.

This so-called free tutoring was a scam from start to finish.

Every day Madge came to my house, she left little Shelby to grind through the practice problems on her own.

While she sprawled on the couch playing video games.

There was no tutoring at all.

Furious and full of regret once I knew, I told Mercedes right then that Madge didn't need to come anymore.

For the sake of all those years between us, I stuffed a thick red envelope of cash into Madge's hands.

Saw the little princess off politely, all smiles.

Gave Mercedes every bit of face.

I thought that was the end of it.

And yet here they were today, still shameless enough to milk it for sympathy.

I looked at Madge and said coldly,

"Are you sure you were seriously tutoring Shelby?"

Madge's crying caught in her throat.

"I've still got the full security footage from my study, you know."

The moment I said it, Madge went white.

Her mouth opened and closed, and she didn't dare get out another word.

I let my face go cold.

"If you don't want me airing your dirty little secret, get out. Now."

Mercedes shot me a vicious glare, then slunk out.

My dad had been standing at the back kitchen door, watching the whole thing.

He came over to me and couldn't help asking under his breath,

"Weren't you and Mercedes always close? How'd it turn into this today?"

Looking at how unguarded my dad was,

my nose stung, and the tears nearly spilled over.

"It's nothing, Dad."

"I just suddenly realized some people don't deserve our sincerity."

I thought that had finally closed the book on the whole thing.

But the next day at noon, right in the middle of the lunch rush,

Madge actually showed up again.

Like she knew the place inside out, she walked in and started clearing tables.

She even started waiting on customers.

The whole routine, smooth as anything.

As if she'd already decided she was staff here.

I strode over and demanded coldly,

"Who said you could come? Wasn't I clear enough yesterday?"

"We will never take you on. Leave, right now!"

At the sound of my voice, Madge's hands jerked to a stop.

The next second, her tears came down.

"Aunt Sally, I, I came on my own…"

Her shoulders trembled, and she looked at me carefully.

"I don't want any pay. I just want to quietly get some experience here."

"I promise I won't affect your business at all, I swear!"

Before I could answer, she gripped the rag tighter and scrubbed the table even harder.

"No."

I stepped forward and took the rag straight out of her hand.

"I'm asking you to leave. Right now!"