Chapter 2

As the walkie-talkie crackled with one "Copy that" after another, footsteps gradually echoed from the far end of the corridor.

Ruth sat on the sofa with her legs crossed and gave Manager Whitney a thumbs up.

"Nicely done. I'll have Mr. Swanson give you a raise."

Manager Whitney nodded and fawned at her side with a grin.

I reached into my pocket, about to pull out my phone and call the corporate Compliance Department.

One phone call, and within ten minutes the two of them would be out on the street.

But my mother suddenly lunged at me, clamping down on my hand, her voice shaking badly, her eyes full of fear.

"Maisie, don't stir up trouble. You worked so hard to earn a little money overseas—what if you end up in a lawsuit?"

"We can't fight these big bosses. Mom doesn't need any birthday party, let's just go, okay?"

I really couldn't hold it in. I wanted to explain everything to my mother.

"Mom, listen to me—"

"Stop talking!"

But she wouldn't give me a chance to speak. She let go of my hand, walked up to Ruth, and bent down.

"Ms. Pruitt, I'm so sorry. We didn't know the rules and we offended you."

"We don't want the fifty-thousand-dollar deposit back. Please, be generous and don't make things hard for my daughter."

"It isn't easy for her, out there all alone. If she gets hurt, I couldn't face her late father…"

Ruth wasn't moved in the slightest. Instead, she quickly hugged her legs to her chest and frantically shrank back.

"Don't touch me with those filthy trash-picking hands. You reek of poverty—it's disgusting."

"If your stench makes me sick, ten of your worthless lives couldn't pay for it."

My mother didn't dare talk back. She just took half a step back, bent even lower, her shoulders trembling faintly.

Ruth stood up, took a step forward, and deliberately ground her thin heel down onto my mother's foot.

My mother let out a muffled cry of pain, her body jerking hard, but she gritted her teeth and didn't make a sound.

She thought that if she endured it, she could protect me.

I was shaking with rage. I rushed over, shoved Ruth aside, and pulled my mother behind me.

Ruth stumbled back a couple of steps from my push, hit the corner of the table, and spilled champagne all down her dress.

"You poor bitch, how dare you push me?"

She suddenly reached out and grabbed the red birthday sash across my mother's chest.

I'd gone to the trouble of having an old master craftsman in Riverton make it—the double-sided gold-embroidered red birthday sash, stitched with the words "May your fortune be as vast as the Eastern Sea."

Now Ruth tore it off, threw it on the floor, then lifted her foot and ground it back and forth for a long while.

My mother was yanked off balance and nearly fell. I quickly reached out to steady her.

Ruth stood on the ruined sash and sneered.

"Celebrating a birthday, are we? Today I'll turn your birthday banquet into a funeral, you old hag!"

She turned to the security guards who had rushed over, straightened up, and pointed at me and my mother.

"Throw them all out for me."

My mother huddled behind me, even her breath choked with tears, clutching my sleeve tightly, afraid I'd do something rash.

"Maisie, let it go, let's just leave."

The security guards glanced at one another, hesitated, then drew the batons at their waists and closed in on us.