My daughter went to my Seafood Buffet Restaurant with her classmates for dinner.

As the evening grew dark, I went to pick her up, only to hear the receptionist yanking at her collar and shouting:

“Cheap little brat, never been to a high-end buffet before? Don’t you know the drinks here can’t be taken out?”

“Thieving little slut, back in the day they’d have cut your hand off for this!”

“Our restaurant loses money every month, all because of people like you!”

My daughter, Sophie Miller, turned pale with fear and tried to explain:

“I didn’t steal anything. This drink is from earlier today. My mom gave it to me to take to school.”

The receptionist snapped back viciously:

“A kid this young already lying? This drink is imported, over three hundred dollars a bottle. You think you can afford it?”

She raised her hand to strike Sophie, but I rushed forward to block her and shouted:

“Stop! What right do you have to hit my daughter?”

The receptionist looked me up and down, then spat:

“No wonder you raised a thief, protecting her like that.”

Shaking with rage, I forced myself to dial the manager’s number:

“What kind of employees are you training? Get over here right now!”

…

Not long ago I had just moved Sophie from San Francisco to New York and hadn’t had time to inspect these chain restaurants.

I never expected such a ridiculous scene on my very first visit.

Soon, an impatient female voice came through the phone:

“Lady, who the hell are you?”

“What my employees do is none of your business!”

“Mind your own damn business!”

I was dumbfounded by her arrogance. Before I could reply, she hung up.

The receptionist folded her arms, sneering:

“And who do you think you are to demand our boss show up? Our boss is Mr. Shaw’s girlfriend.”

“A country bumpkin like you probably doesn’t even know who Mr. Shaw is, huh?”

“Well, let me tell you. That’s Edward Shaw, the wealthiest man in New York. When he stamps his foot, the whole city shakes.”

“You dare cause trouble in his girlfriend’s restaurant? You must have a death wish!”

Her words made my eyes turn cold.

Wasn’t Edward Shaw my husband?

Since when did he have a girlfriend?

Sophie tugged at my sleeve and whispered, “Mom, is she talking about Dad?”

Hearing this, the receptionist, Rachel Lee, mocked cruelly:

“Little bastard, stop claiming fathers you don’t have. You think you deserve to be Mr. Shaw’s daughter?”

“Not only do you steal, you even want to steal a dad. Disgusting!”

At that, the surrounding crowd began whispering:

“This girl is really full of it. Everyone knows Mr. Shaw’s wife and kid live in San Francisco. How could they be here?”

“Kids these days, so vain. She’s clearly poorly raised.”

Sophie’s classmates exchanged glances and edged away from her.

One boy put his hands on his hips:

“Sophie, you’re such a fake. Your last name is Miller, not Shaw!”

“Besides, every Parent-Teacher Conference your mom shows up alone. We’ve never seen your dad. I don’t think you even have one!”

Other kids chimed in:

“Yeah, liars are bad kids. If you keep lying, we won’t play with you anymore!”

Hearing her friends, Sophie’s little face turned chalk-white.

She bit her lip and said softly:

“I’m not lying. My last name is Miller because I take after my mom. But my dad’s name really is Edward Shaw.”

Rachel rolled her eyes dramatically:

“Filthy liar, spitting out one lie after another. Aren’t you afraid your tongue will rot?”

“I don’t want to waste my breath. This drink cost $398 wholesale. The penalty is one-thousand times the price. I’ll cut you a deal—pay $390,000 and we’ll forget the whole thing.”

The crowd gasped.

“Three hundred ninety thousand? That’s outrageous!”

“Outrageous? If you let kids steal now, they’ll steal gold when they’re older. She needs a good lesson!”

Hearing this, I pulled out my bank card and slammed it on the table.

“No need for discounts. I’ll pay $400,000!”

Rachel’s eyes lit up and she reached for it, but I pulled it away and said coldly:

“You’ll get the money only if the manager comes here and we review the surveillance cameras from start to finish.”

“If my daughter took anything, I’ll pay ten times more.”

“But if she didn’t, what will you do then?”

Rachel sneered:

“Don’t think I’m scared. That drink your daughter stole is a rare import, sold only here at our Seafood Buffet. If it wasn’t her, I’ll pay you $400,000 myself.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Fine. Deal.”

Thinking she was about to earn millions for the restaurant, Rachel was thrilled and immediately called the manager, Clara Johnson.

Within half an hour, Clara strutted in with arrogance.

She looked us over, arms crossed. “Rachel, these are the ones causing trouble?”

Rachel rushed to her side like a lackey:

“That’s right, Ms. Johnson. This woman’s kid stole something and refuses to admit it. She insists we check the cameras.”

Clara scoffed:

“Unbelievable. Riffraff like this think they can eat here? Looks like charging $3,800 a head is still too cheap.”

Three thousand eight hundred?

When I opened this chain, I set a uniform price of $980 per person.

She had secretly raised the price without reporting it.

I couldn’t help demanding:

“Other cities charge $980. Why are you charging more than three thousand here?”

Clara smirked like she’d heard a joke:

“Hick. If you can’t afford it, don’t come. You think New York is like other cities?”

Rachel chimed in:

“Mr. Shaw already gave this restaurant to Ms. Johnson. She can charge whatever she wants. None of your damn business.”

So that’s why the Ocean Palace Buffet in New York always showed losses—Edward had secretly handed it over to her.

I let out a bitter laugh.

“I heard Edward Shaw is already married with kids. So you’re saying you’re his wife?”

Clara’s face stiffened, but she forced her chin up:

“Becoming Mrs. Shaw is only a matter of time. Edward will dump that old hag sooner or later.”

Sophie gripped my fingers nervously. “Mom, does Dad really not want us anymore?”

I patted her back firmly. “Don’t be afraid. With or without him, I’ll protect you.”

The Shaw and Miller families had been bound in a business alliance since childhood.

When I married Edward, the Shaw family was already in decline.

I had used the Miller family’s resources, exhausting myself to rebuild his fortune.

His title as New York’s richest man came only because of the Miller family. Without me, he was nothing.

Hearing our conversation, Clara sneered even more:

“Like mother, like daughter. A filthy brat daring to claim a father she doesn’t have—what a disgusting pair.”

I was usually patient, but the one thing I could never tolerate was anyone insulting my daughter.

Today, these two had gone too far.

My eyes turned icy as I spoke each word clearly:

“If you dare spew filth at my daughter again, I’ll see you thrown out of New York!”

The crowd gasped.

“Is she insane? Talking to Ms. Johnson like that?”

“Doesn’t she know Mr. Shaw protects his women? She’s finished.”

Clara hadn’t expected anyone to insult her. Her face turned crimson.

“Bitch, who do you think you are!”

She raised her hand to hit me, but I grabbed her and flung her aside.

Clara nearly lost her mind.

She screamed at the door:

“Are you all dead? Get in here and teach this slut a lesson!”

At once, seven or eight bodyguards rushed in.

The customers and Sophie’s classmates panicked and hid at the back.

I shielded Sophie and snapped:

“I’m the CEO of Ocean Palace Buffet. If you lay a finger on me, you’ll regret it.”

The bodyguards hesitated, intimidated by my authority.

But Clara shrieked:

“You idiots, she’s nothing! Beat this mother and daughter to death if you have to. Edward Shaw will back me up!”

A chill ran through me, but I didn’t flinch.

I discreetly pressed the emergency call button on my phone and glared coldly at Clara.

She faltered for a moment under my stare, but then straightened again, emboldened by her ties to Edward.

“Stop bluffing. In New York, nobody dares touch me!”

She gestured, and the bodyguards raised their clubs and charged at us.

I threw myself over Sophie, taking blow after blow.

After a dozen strikes, my face was ashen, blood dripping from the corner of my mouth.

Sophie screamed, “Please stop hitting my mom!”

Clara, annoyed by the noise, snapped viciously:

“That thieving brat—break her hand!”

Rage exploded inside me.

“If you dare touch Sophie, I’ll fight you to the death!”

My daughter was my everything—shy, intelligent, and gifted in art.

She had won countless children’s painting competitions, and her teacher had predicted she would one day shine in the art world.

She practiced every single day, never once slacking.

If her hand was destroyed, it would be a lifelong regret.

But Clara only smirked.

“Hurts, doesn’t it? Who told your daughter to steal? Since you won’t teach her, I’ll do it for you!”

She ordered the guards to pin me down, then yanked Sophie away.

With a cruel stomp, she crushed her heel onto Sophie’s right hand.

The sickening sound of bones snapping echoed.

Sophie convulsed in agony, her screams piercing the air.

The onlookers couldn’t bear it any longer, shouting for her to stop.

But Clara snarled:

“Anyone who interferes, I’ll smash you too!”

My heart raced wildly, my vision blurred.

Only one thought remained in my mind—Clara must die.

Sophie, overwhelmed by the pain, fainted.

Yet Clara still wasn’t satisfied.

She pressed her foot on my head, grinding it into the floor.

“Bitch, this is the price of crossing me.”