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.”

I looked at her through the pain, each word sharp as a blade:

“I will never let you get away with this.”

Hearing that, her face twisted for a moment, and she raised her hand to slap me.

Just then, the police arrived.

The bodyguards restraining me quickly let go. Clara Johnson glared at me with hatred, then forced a smile as she greeted them.

The officer barked, “What’s going on here? A public brawl? You’re all coming back to the station with me!”

I struggled to my feet, cradled Sophie in my arms, and pointed straight at Clara:

“Officer, she and her staff framed my daughter for stealing and then stomped on her hand, breaking it. I want to press charges for assault!”

Clara’s eyes flickered with guilt, but she quickly retorted:

“Who framed who? That kid stole from the restaurant. The stolen goods are still in her bag!”

“And besides, she broke her hand falling. What does that have to do with me?”

Listening to her lies, I clenched my fists so hard my palms bled, barely restraining myself from tearing her mouth apart.

At that moment, Sophie slowly regained consciousness. Weakly, she whispered, “Mom, I really didn’t steal anything.”

Tears filled my eyes.

I had to clear her name today—otherwise, she would live under this shadow forever.

I said loudly, “The restaurant has surveillance cameras everywhere. One look and the truth will be clear!”

The officer nodded in agreement.

Clara’s face paled, and she shot a desperate glance at Rachel Lee.

Rachel stammered,

“Well… the cameras are broken. We haven’t had time to fix them yet.”

I snapped back, “Broken now, of all times? Who do you think you’re fooling?”

The officer, experienced and sharp, wasn’t buying it. He growled:

“You know the consequences of obstructing an investigation. Bring me the footage now.”

Panicked, Clara blurted, “Just a moment, I’ll call the tech staff.”

Then she slipped into the back, secretly dialing Edward Shaw in tears.

Twenty minutes later, Edward arrived.

He went straight to Clara’s side, soothing her for a long while before finally turning toward me and Sophie.

When he saw our faces, he frowned deeply.

“Grace Miller? Sophie? What are you doing here?”

I let out a cold laugh, glaring at him.

“Sophie and I came to surprise you for your birthday. But it looks like you surprised me first.”

“A mistress, and you even gave away my restaurant? Quite the achievement!”

Impatience flickered in Edward’s eyes, though he forced himself to look serious.

“Grace, don’t misunderstand. Clara and I are just boss and employee.”

Clara hadn’t expected me to truly be Edward’s wife. Her face turned ugly, and hearing his denial nearly drove her mad with jealousy.

Biting her lip, she put on a pitiful act:

“Mr. Shaw, even if they’re your family, they shouldn’t be allowed to break the restaurant’s rules. The kid stole, and I only said a few words. Then your wife threatened to kill me. Is this how you raise a child?”

At her words, Edward’s expression hardened.

“Grace, it’s bad enough you always spoil Sophie, but how could you allow her to steal?”

Sophie’s eyes welled with tears.

“Daddy, I didn’t. I really didn’t.”

But he only shot her a cold glance and sneered:

“You’ve always been weak and dull. I thought you’d grow out of it, but instead you’ve become worse. You’re a disgrace to the Shaw family!”