Chapter 5

"That's right. Mom, are you really so heartless that you'd make me lose face in front of my in-laws?"

I studied my daughter's posture—half-begging, half-manipulative. A thought crystallized.

*Fine.*

Since she insisted I was scheming, and since she claimed her in-laws were so wonderful, I would let her see the cruel truth.

"Fine," I said aloud.

We piled into the car. Savannah squirmed in Zoey Lambert's lap, kicking her legs.

"I don't want to sit with Bad Grandma!"

A bitter taste flooded my mouth.

Seven years ago, when Jade gave birth, her in-laws didn't even show their faces because Savannah was a girl. They had withheld the $20,000 confinement subsidy they promised. I was the one who raised this child from infancy, yet now she clung to the grandmother who had despised her existence and called me "bad."

The irony cut deep.

Jade had no choice but to sit in the middle, leaving me squeezed against the door.

From the front passenger seat, Patrick's dad, Alex James, spoke up. "Is tonight's New Year's Eve dinner arranged?"

Before Patrick could answer, Jade jumped in.

"It's all arranged! I specifically had my mom buy top-grade fish maw and fresh seafood..."

"I didn't buy it." My voice was calm. "I sent you the grocery list this morning. You forgot? The $500 you gave me wasn't nearly enough."

The atmosphere in the car turned to stone. Patrick scrambled to smooth things over.

"It's fine! Dad, Mom, you don't visit often. We'll book a table at Riverside Tower for New Year's Eve dinner. There's still time!"

Riverside Tower. One of the top three restaurants in River City.

I hadn't set foot in such a place in seven years.

Jade's face lengthened, but she couldn't flare up in front of her in-laws. She let her husband call and book a private room, which required an extra $2,000 rush fee.

The car pulled up to the restaurant. As the waiters guided us to a private room on the second floor, Jade grabbed my arm, hanging back.

"Mom," she whispered resentfully, "if you hadn't suddenly quit today, would we be here wasting money like suckers? You're paying for this meal. Consider it an apology for your immature behavior."

A short, sharp laugh escaped me. "You really do see me as a servant, don't you? If I don't cook, you and your mother-in-law are incapable of making a meal?"

"My mother-in-law isn't like you!" Jade hissed. "She's been pampered her whole life—how could she do rough work? Besides, she's a guest who traveled a long way. How can we ask an honored guest to cook?"

My heart turned to ice.

For years, her mother-in-law's persona had been that of a noble, delicate lady, too fragile for labor. Meanwhile, in my daughter's eyes, I was born to be a rough-handed servant. Seven years of giving everything, and it was worth less than a few polite words from a stranger.

I shook off her hand and walked inside without a word.

Jade's eyes lit up. "Mom, since you didn't say no, I'll take that as a yes!"

At the dinner table, the family chatted happily about the past, effectively walling me out. An outsider at my own daughter's table.

Jade attentively ordered a bottle of Moutai to impress her father-in-law. Then, she ordered a serving of imperial bird's nest stewed with snow frog for her mother-in-law.

"Does your mother want one too?" Zoey asked politely.

Jade waved her hand dismissively. "My mom doesn't like that stuff. She says it's all marketing gimmicks and scams. She prefers snow fungus!"

She turned to the waiter. "Bring my mother a bowl of snow fungus and pear soup."

I sneered internally. Seven years ago, during Jade's confinement, Zoey had hypocritically sent a few boxes of bird's nest as an excuse for not visiting, claiming her "old ailment" had flared up. I had made one comment about the quality back then, and Jade had held a grudge ever since.

"You all eat slowly. If it's not enough, order more."

I stood. "I'm going to the restroom."

I walked out of the private room and went straight to the front desk.

"Waiter." My voice was clear. "Bring out your most expensive liquor."

Five minutes later, I strolled out of the restaurant, two bottles of vintage red wine worth $200,000 tucked securely under my arm. I hailed a cab and headed straight for the airport.

Back in the private room, the restaurant manager pushed the door open, beaming.

"Congratulations to our honored guests! Your spending today has exceeded $200,000. As a token of our appreciation, please accept this collector's edition zodiac commemorative liquor."

He presented the gift on a tray, alongside the bill.