The Vengeance Feast

For Thanksgiving, my mother-in-law Eleanor visited from the countryside. To celebrate, I took her to my husband Ethan’s upscale downtown restaurant, Aria.
I ordered her favorite—Braised Sea Bass—but when she took a bite, her smile faded. The fish was ice-cold, with frost still on it.
I called the manager, a sharp-looking woman who glanced at the plate indifferently.
“We forgot to microwave it,” she said.
“You serve pre-packaged meals?” I asked.
Her face flushed. “What’s wrong with pre-packaged? You think we have time to cook from scratch?”
I pointed to the sign: “Freshly Caught, Expertly Prepared.” “This is false advertising. Is this how your boss runs the business?”
She smirked. “Honey, I’m the owner’s wife. You just want a free meal.”
Leaning in, she hissed, “That opened package is non-refundable. With freezer costs and premium ingredients, you owe $500. You’re not leaving until you pay.”
$500 for frozen fish?
So this was why Ethan, a finance titan, suddenly opened a restaurant—not a passion project, but a scam to fund his mistress.
I was about to call him, but she already had her phone out.

1
"Honey, you need to get down to the restaurant, fast! There are a couple of broke bitches here trying to dine and dash!"
As if getting Ethan’s green light, her confidence swelled. She pointed a manicured finger at us, her voice ringing through the now-silent dining room.
"Are all the men in your family dead? Is that why they sent a cheap tramp and an old crone to scam a free dinner?" she shrieked. "This is an upscale establishment! Do you really think low-life trash like you belong here? My husband is on his way. You are so, so screwed!"
Her shrill tirade had captured the attention of every patron in the room. Several waiters drifted over, forming a human wall around us, their expressions just as smug.
"You should probably just pay up," one of them sneered. "Our boss's wife isn't someone you can afford to mess with."
"Yeah," another chimed in. "Some influencer came in here last week, said one wrong word to her, and our boss broke his leg. Got his entire online presence wiped, too. You think you're tougher than him?"
Eleanor had lived a quiet, humble life. Never in her seventy years had she been publicly humiliated like this. Her face was pale as she clutched my sleeve, her voice a frightened whisper. "Evelyn, dear… are we in the wrong place? This can't be my son's restaurant, can it?"
Even now, she'd rather believe we’d made a mistake than suspect Ethan of cheating. She couldn't imagine him allowing his mistress to run a con.
And why would she?
To us, Ethan was the perfect man—honest, devoted to his mother, and utterly in love with his wife.
A month ago, when he'd announced his plan to leave the cutthroat world of finance for the culinary arts, I had asked him why.
He'd looked at me with that sincere gaze of his and spoken of the rampant food safety issues, of his dream to create a restaurant where people could eat without fear. He'd spoken of wanting to ensure no one had to eat two-year-old broccoli or beef that had been frozen for years. His passion and integrity had moved me.
I never imagined that the massive investment I’d helped fund wasn't for some noble cause.
It was to build a den for his mistress. A gilded cage where she could fleece the unsuspecting.
I pulled Eleanor behind me, my voice low and cold as I faced the woman. "Fine. I can't wait to see how your husband plans to 'teach us a lesson' when he gets here."

2
My words only seemed to fuel her rage. Her eyes narrowed. "You bitch," she spat. "You're that desperate to meet my husband?"
A twisted kind of realization dawned on her face. She pointed at me, her voice rising to a triumphant shriek. "Oh, I get it now! Who complains about pre-packaged food these days? You knew this was a high-end place, so you came here to stir up trouble, didn't you? All just to get my husband's attention!"
She laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Let me tell you something. My husband is a faithful man. He wouldn't look twice at a washed-up slut like you who’s been passed around by a thousand men!"
Her voice, deliberately loud, drew every eye in the room. She started recording me with her phone, her voice a narrator's booming accusation for her unseen audience.
"Everyone, get a look at this shameless woman! She brings an old lady to my restaurant, complains about the food, complains about the price, and when all else fails, she tries to pay with her body! She was hoping the owner would show up so she could make her move! Now I’m putting her pathetic face online for the world to see. Watch out for this one, ladies, or she’ll be after your husbands next!"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd of onlookers.
"If you can't afford it, don't go out. Why harass a business owner?"
"Exactly, this is an expensive place. What was she expecting?"
"Trying to trade sex for a meal? If you're that broke, go sell it on a street corner. Don't try to steal someone else's husband!"
"You… you people…" Eleanor was so incensed by the blatant lies that she could barely breathe, let alone speak.
I rubbed her back, trying to soothe her, then pointed a steady hand at the plate on our table. "We ordered the Braised Sea Bass," I said, my voice cutting through the noise. "What we received was a frozen block of fish, straight from the freezer. You can still see the ice on it. And for this, she wants to charge us five hundred dollars!"
I locked eyes with the woman. "We are exercising our rights as consumers. If you're incapable of handling a simple complaint, then by all means, let's wait for your husband."
The fact that I dared to talk back sent her into a fury. She signaled her staff, and in an instant, they closed in around me. "Let me make this crystal clear for you," she hissed, her face inches from mine. "My husband gave me this restaurant. My name is Jessica, and what I say goes. I say you owe me five hundred, you pay five hundred! I could serve you a plate of shit and you'd still have to pay for it, you understand? Now, if you don't settle your bill and get on your knees and apologize to me right now, you're not walking out of here in one piece."

3
Jessica.
The name struck me like a bolt of lightning.
A few weeks ago, a package had arrived at our house. It was addressed to a Jessica, but with our home address. Curious, I opened it. Inside was a set of lingerie so scandalous it was barely there.
When I showed Ethan, he didn't even hesitate. He tossed it straight into the trash, his expression perfectly calm. "Must be a mistake," he'd said. "Or some new kind of guerrilla marketing. Just ignore it."
The truth I hadn't seen then was now blindingly clear.
I stared at Jessica, my voice colder than the fish on our table. "I suggest you wait for Ethan. Let him be the one to tell you who, exactly, you're talking to."
Her face contorted with rage. "You rotten bitch! So you did come here for my husband! You even know his name!"
It was only then that the final, terrible piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Eleanor. This was Ethan's restaurant. The husband this harpy was screaming about was her son.
Still, she couldn't believe it. "Young lady," she said, her voice trembling but firm, "I am Ethan's mother. You must be mistaken. My son would never get involved with someone like you. He is not your husband."
CRACK!
The sound of the slap echoed through the restaurant. Jessica had struck Eleanor across the face with all her strength.
"You old hag! A peasant who can't even afford a frozen dinner dares to pretend she's my husband's mother? Who the hell do you think you are?"
Eleanor was frail. The force of the blow sent her stumbling backward, and she collapsed onto the hard floor.
"Mom!" I screamed, rushing to her side.
I remembered the day I chose Ethan. My father had offered a fortune as a dowry for any man who would marry me and help run the family business. Suitors lined up, but only Ethan had knelt outside our gate for three days and three nights, tears in his eyes, swearing he wanted nothing but the money to save his dying mother.
It was his filial piety, his profound love for his mother, that had won me over.
After we married, I hired the best doctors in the country. They saved Eleanor's life. But her heart was still weak. The doctors had warned us—no severe shocks.
Now, after Jessica's violent assault, Eleanor's face was a deathly white. She clutched her chest, her body curling into a tight ball of agony.
"Mom?" Fear seized me. "Mom, is it your heart?" My voice cracked. "Your medicine! Where is your medicine?"
Her emergency pills. She never went anywhere without them. My hands flew, frantically patting down her pockets until my fingers closed around the small, brown vial. My hands shook as I twisted the cap, ready to tip the life-saving pills into her mouth.
But Jessica was faster. She lunged forward and snatched the bottle from my grasp.
"What's this? The dine-and-dash failed, the 'I'm his mother' act didn't work, so now you're faking a heart attack? You really think that's going to get you out of this?"
"Give it back!" I scrambled to my feet, trying to get to her, but two of the male waiters—clearly Jessica's friends or relatives—grabbed my arms and held me fast.
My voice was a raw, desperate plea. "She is Ethan's mother! She's having a heart attack! She'll die without that medicine!"

4
I thought explaining the gravity of the situation would make her see reason.
I was wrong. She just scoffed, a cruel twist to her lips.
"Still lying? My husband is the CEO of Apex Corporation, a man everyone looks up to. This old woman looks like she crawled out of a dumpster. How could she possibly be his mother? You two are pathetic. Do you really think anyone would believe such a ridiculous story?"
Ethan's father had died young. Eleanor had raised him alone, working herself to the bone to give him the best of everything. She lived a simple, frugal life, pouring every penny she earned into her son. Even after Ethan and I bought her beautiful new clothes, she'd save them for special occasions, preferring her old, worn-in things.
Now, her humility was being used as proof against her.
Seeing Eleanor's face shift from pale white to a terrifying shade of blue, I screamed, "I'm telling the truth! She is his mother, and I am his wife, Evelyn! If you don't believe me, video call him right now and ask!"
I fought against the waiters' grip, but they held me firm.
Jessica glared at me, her voice dripping with contempt. "You're getting more delusional by the second. One claims to be his mother, the other claims to be his wife. Don't you own a mirror? Even if you stripped naked and begged, my husband wouldn't give you a second glance!"
The other waiters chimed in with their own vicious chorus. "That's right! Our Jessica is the real Mrs. Chazelle!" "You're just some hick. How dare you try to compete with her?" "I've never seen such a shameless woman, trying to be a homewrecker right in front of the wife!"
Jessica nodded thoughtfully, then her eyes landed on the table. She picked up the plate with the frozen sea bass and dumped its contents onto the floor. Then, she ground the fish into the tile with the heel of her designer shoe.
She looked down at me, a predator enjoying her power.
"You want the medicine? Is that it?" she purred. "Fine. Get on your knees. Lick this fish you complained so much about off the floor, and I'll give it to you."
My eyes shot to Eleanor, curled on the floor. She met my gaze, her voice a pained, raspy whisper. "Don't..."
Even in her agony, she didn't want me to be humiliated for her sake.
Ethan may have betrayed me, but Eleanor had always treated me like the daughter she never had. She was constantly reminding Ethan to be good to me, threatening to disown him if he ever wronged me. She insisted on living back in her hometown, not wanting to be a burden, wanting us to have our own space. Every time she visited, she’d bring bags overflowing with produce from her garden, her way of showing love.
Her breathing was becoming shallower, her face turning a darker, more frightening color.
Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees.
I bent down and, fighting back the bile rising in my throat, began to eat the pulped, dirt-caked fish from the floor. I abandoned my pride, my dignity, my everything, for the simple, desperate hope that she would live.
Jessica's triumphant laughter echoed around me. "Hahaha! Look, everyone! Doesn't she look just like a dog? A minute ago, she was too good for our food. Now look at her gobbling it up!"
The staff joined in her laughter. "Jessica's a genius! She really knows how to put people in their place."
I ignored them, forcing down bite after gritty bite until the floor was clean.
I looked up at her, my voice urgent. "I did what you asked. Now give me the medicine. Please."
Jessica let out a short, sharp laugh. "You're even dumber than you look. You actually believed me?"
"I was lying, you idiot."
And with that, she turned and hurled the medicine vial through the open window, where it disappeared with a soft splash into the decorative lake outside.
"NO!"
The word was torn from my throat, a raw scream of despair. Tears streamed down my face as I watched the ripples spread.
On the floor, Eleanor's body gave a final, violent shudder. Her eyes lost their focus. She weakly lifted a hand, her trembling fingers brushing away a tear from my cheek.
"Evelyn," she rasped. "I'm so sorry."
Was she apologizing for the humiliation I'd endured? Or for the son who had betrayed us both?
With those last words, her hand fell limp to the floor.
Her faint breathing stopped completely.
"Mom? Mom, wake up! MOM!" I shook her, screamed her name, but there was no response. She was gone.
My mother-in-law was dead.
I couldn't process it. We had just come for dinner at Ethan's restaurant. A simple dinner. And now, because of this venomous monster, Eleanor was dead.
A gut-wrenching sob tore through me.
The shift leader knelt, checked for a pulse, and then scrambled back in terror. "Jessica! The old woman… I think she's really dead! What do we do?"
Jessica's only reaction was a slight, annoyed frown. "She's the one who came here to cause trouble. Her death has nothing to do with me. Besides," she added with a dismissive wave, "my husband is the CEO of Apex. He's got connections everywhere. With him protecting me, what is there to be afraid of?"
Her words were like a magic spell, instantly calming her panicked staff.
Her unrepentant arrogance ignited a firestorm of rage within me. A strength I didn't know I possessed surged through my body. I shot to my feet and lunged, my hands closing around Jessica's throat.
"You animal! I'll kill you!"
In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to make her pay for Eleanor's life with her own.
"Son of a bitch, she's attacking the boss!" one of the waiters yelled, and a swift, hard kick sent me sprawling.
The others descended on me like a pack of wolves, their fists and feet raining down blows. The pain was excruciating, my body feeling like it was being torn apart. But Jessica wasn't satisfied.
Gasping for air, she rubbed her throat, her eyes burning with hatred. "You bitch. No one has ever laid a finger on me in my entire life. Today, you're going to learn what happens when you cross me."
She snatched a steak knife and fork from a nearby table.
And plunged the fork deep into my thigh.
White-hot agony shot through me. I didn't scream. I just locked my bloody eyes on hers and snarled, "Jessica, you are going to die for this. I swear to God, you will die."
"Still making threats, are you?" she shrieked, enraged. She began stabbing me again and again, treating my body like a pin cushion.
As my consciousness began to fade, a voice from the crowd shouted out.
"Mr. Chazelle is here!"

5
The words "Mr. Chazelle is here" acted like a kill switch.
The chaotic scene froze. The blows stopped. Everyone turned towards the entrance.
Jessica tossed the bloody utensils aside. The vicious fury on her face melted away, replaced in an instant by the tear-streaked mask of a victim. Cradling the red marks on her neck, she ran towards the door, crying his name.
"Ethan! You're finally here!" she wailed, collapsing into his arms. "Oh, God… I was so scared!"
She buried her face in his chest, trembling like a frightened rabbit.
Ethan wrapped his arms around her, his expression grim, but his voice was impossibly gentle. "It's okay, baby. Don't be scared. I'm here now."
Hearing that voice, so full of love and concern, felt like another knife twisting in my heart.
For years, that was my Ethan. He was the perfect husband, praised by all our friends and family for his gentle, attentive nature. After he took over my family's corporation and transformed it, he became the revered Mr. Chazelle—a man known in public as an unapproachable iceberg of power and prestige.
But at home, he was just Ethan. He cooked for me, took care of me when I was sick, and indulged my every whim. He spoiled me rotten.
Whenever I needed him, no matter where he was or what he was doing, he would drop everything and come to me. He would hold me just like that, whispering those exact same words.
"It's okay, baby. Don't be scared. I'm here now."
I once believed that the warmth beneath the iceberg was mine alone. I believed him when he said he would only ever be that way with me.
Hearing those familiar words now, directed at another woman, was a bitter, cruel joke.
So this is what it felt like. Love, it turned out, was just another performance.
After calming Jessica, Ethan’s voice turned hard as steel. "What happened?"
Jessica squeezed out a few more tears. "Ethan, it was those two broke women I told you about on the phone! They ordered the sea bass, claimed it was pre-packaged, and then refused to pay! They were making a huge scene, driving away all our customers!"
She pointed a trembling finger towards us. "Then the old one, after screaming at me, faked a heart attack to get out of paying. But I think… I think she actually had one and died! Then the younger one went crazy and tried to kill me! Look what she did to my neck! If the staff hadn't stepped in, you might not have a girlfriend to come home to!"
She punctuated her story with a sob, a masterful performance of twisting the truth until it was unrecognizable.
Her staff immediately backed her up. "It's true, Mr. Chazelle! They came here looking for a fight, just to get a free meal!"
"You have to stand up for Jessica, sir! If you don't, every piece of trash in the city will think they can walk all over her!"
The onlookers, realizing the restaurant owner was the famous Ethan Chazelle of Apex Corporation, quickly took Jessica's side, their whispers condemning me and Eleanor. "Serves them right," one said. "Died from her own stupid scam."
Ethan's face was a thundercloud. "Where are they? Show me."
Jessica led him through the crowd, pointing dramatically. "There, Ethan! Those are the two bitches!"

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