But now, that charm flitting in the wind seemed to slap me in the face.

I ripped the good luck charm off the plant and lit it on fire before tossing it into the drain.

"Mr. Leeds, when are you going to pay us the 300 dollars in compensation?"

A familiar voice rang out from behind me.

I turned and saw Yves, flanked by a group of workers, walking toward me like he was the king of the world.

Steve shouted, "Yeah! How much money have you greedily made off of us over the years? Now, you can't even compensate us? What a dirty, rotten businessman you are!"

I looked at Steve, and a wave of mixed emotions flooded me.

"How dare you say I'm greedy! What about you? Remember when I paid 20 thousand dollars for your son's medical bills? Why didn't you call me greedy back then?"

Steve, getting even more worked up at the mention of his son, retorted, "My son was completely fine for 16 years! He ate at your restaurant for six months and got sick! It's your food that made him sick! Why did you pay for the medical bills if you weren't guilty? You were just feeling bad about it!"

I stared at him in shock, full of disbelief at the depths of his shamelessness.

"You!"

I felt my heart racing with anger as I clutched my chest while gasping for air.

But Steve, thinking that he had caught me in a lie, grinned even wider.

The other workers chimed in, "People care about health these days. We should be eating lighter, healthier food, yet you keep serving us dishes high in fat and sodium, like meatloaf and fried chicken. How can you say that you're not trying to mess with us?"

"If it weren't for Yves telling us, we wouldn't have realized you're making us buy extra drinks just to get more profit!"

"You're ruining our health for profit! What a disgrace!"

"The reason I put in extra oil and salt is that you work long hours on heavy physical labor, and more salt and oil give you more energy," I weakly tried to explain.

But they were now emotionally charged, so it just sounded like I was trying to defend myself after being caught.

"You even gave my daughter spoiled seafood that gave her a terrible stomachache!" Tanya screamed at me.

Carrie joined in angrily, "If it weren't for that stomachache, I wouldn't have missed school for days and failed my exams! You ruined my life!"

I yelled back, "That seafood was freshly caught by my friend and sent to me for my own consumption! I was cooking it for myself, but your daughter took it without asking!"

Tanya glared at me and sneered, "We don't care for your disgusting seafood! What's important is that you sold us unhygienic food! Pay up!"

Yves seized the moment and said, "Mr. Leeds, Ms. Hertz is right! I've seen you buying leftover rotten vegetables at the market. You know, the ones the farmers are going to throw away at the end of the day. Are our vegetables…"

He looked horrified as he said this, and the workers grew even angrier.

"Stop spreading rumors! Those were for the chickens and ducks I raise at home!"

When Tanya heard this, her eyes practically shot daggers at me. "You're a real scam artist! You have chicken and ducks at home, yet you're charging us ten dollars for a meal? Do you have no conscience for exploiting workers like us?"

With that, she threw rotten eggs and spoiled vegetables all over me in a fit of rage.

Blood trickled down my forehead as the rotten food hit me.

"Pay us the money, or we'll make sure a greedy businessman like you gets what you deserve!"

I didn't even know who yelled that, but the crowd surged forward, and they started kicking and punching me.

In the chaos, someone kicked me in the stomach and knocked me to the ground. I could feel a searing pain burning inside me.

Someone stomped on my leg, and with a crack, I heard my shin snap. The pain was so intense that I couldn't stop screaming.

But they weren't done. Yves pinned my hands down, then said to the others, "Those hands of his are the ones that cooked our food every day, and they've ruined our health! Now I'm going to break them so he can't hurt anyone else!"

With that, he began smashing my fingers with a steel rod. The pain made my mind go blank, and I finally lost consciousness.

When I woke up again, it was already night.

The crowd had dispersed, and I was lying alone on the ground, still smelling of rotten eggs and spoiled vegetables.

I struggled to get up, holding onto the wall, and slowly made my way back to the small apartment my father had left behind.

Then I found the first-aid kit and treated my wounds. Sitting on the couch, I stared at my dad's photo and smoked a cigarette. I cried the entire night.

By morning, I held his photo and wailed, "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm unable to keep the house anymore."

With that, I grabbed the key to open the safe, intending to take the property deed to sell the house.

To my surprise, I found not only the property deed inside but also a will and a check for 260 million dollars.

It turned out my dad had won the lottery but kept it a secret because he was afraid I would squander it all.

He had placed the money in the safe along with the property deed, setting it aside in case I ever needed it to get through hard times.

I held the check in my hands, crying harder than ever in front of his photo.

With the 260 million dollars, I easily paid off the fine and compensation. I then hired the best contractors and designers in the city.

I told the construction manager, "In a week, I want this restaurant knocked down and turned into the highest-end five-star restaurant in the city. The cost of building it is no concern of mine!"

With the funds to back me up, the restaurant was built quickly.

As I gazed at the luxurious place that resembled a palace, a flood of mixed emotions washed over me.

Opening day arrived, coinciding with the workers' return to the site.

At lunchtime, Yves strutted over, surrounded by a crowd of workers. As he walked toward me, he boasted, "The shutdown and fines must have taught him a lesson. He won't dare serve us those rotten scraps again! Don't worry. With me here, your food safety is guaranteed!"

He turned, only to freeze when he saw the new luxury restaurant.

"Mr. Leeds got smart, huh? This is some serious upgrade after the shutdown!"

The workers, seeing the restaurant's array of expensive dishes, began drooling.

Just as they rushed in, each holding ten dollars, I stepped forward and blocked their way.

"This is a high-end, custom private dining experience. The minimum charge is four thousand dollars per table."