I only took two plastic bags from the Maynard family’s deli, yet Patricia Maynard stormed into my office and publicly accused me of stealing, forcing me to pay her. I’d supported their business for years and even asked my father to hold off on raising their rent, and this is how they repaid me. Fine. From today on, the Maynard family will face the consequences—starting with the lease for the storefront they rent from my family. 0 I’d stayed up too late the night before and overslept. I scrambled to get ready for work, throwing on whatever I could grab, and ran out the door. The Uber driver was already waiting, but my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I rushed into Maynard’s Deli and told Russell to pack me a $30 sandwich to go. I was running late and couldn’t waste time. When he rang it up, the total came to $56.90. Fine. I didn’t argue. I paid, grabbed the bag, and was about to leave when I noticed the torn bag leaking sauce onto my hand. Russell was busy, so I didn’t want to bother him. I grabbed two extra plastic bags myself and left. Twenty minutes after getting to the office, I hadn’t even had time to eat before Mia Carter, my coworker, told me someone was there to see me. I thought maybe a client had arrived early. Adjusting my blazer, I stepped outside—and was face-to-face with none other than Patricia Maynard. “You ran off without paying!” she barked, her voice dripping with venom. “How can someone who works at such a big company be so shameless?” My mind raced. Did my payment not go through? I quickly pulled up my payment history on Venmo—everything looked fine. “Mrs. Maynard,” I said, keeping my tone polite, “I just checked, and I definitely paid. Maybe there was a delay on your end?” I showed her the transaction receipt on my phone. “See? I paid. This must be a misunderstanding.” “You paid for the food,” she sneered. “But don’t forget about the extra plastic bags you took! Five cents each, and you just walked off with them like I owe you something!” The misunderstanding wasn’t cleared up; if anything, she doubled down. “Walking around all polished and proper, working at a big company, but you still can’t resist taking advantage of us small folk.” “Doesn’t your company care about hiring people with integrity? Call your boss out here and let him see your true colors.” “You think because I’m an old lady, you can bully me? Taking things without paying just because I’m too polite to stop you? You’re disgusting!” By now, her shouting had drawn the attention of my entire office. 0
Patricia’s voice echoed across the office, loud enough for the whole floor to hear. People started gathering, curious about the commotion. Even Greg Mitchell, my team leader, rushed over. Seeing her rage, he tried to calm her down before even asking me for the full story. “Jules,” Greg said, turning to me, “just give her the money, and let’s move on. She’s an elderly lady—it’s not easy for her to come all the way here. Let’s not cause a scene or hurt the company’s image.” I bit back my anger, knowing he had a point. This was about a dollar. Not worth escalating. Besides, I had a major client meeting in thirty minutes and couldn’t waste energy arguing with her. “Fine,” I said coldly. Turning to Patricia, I spoke deliberately. “Mrs. Maynard, I was in a hurry this morning, and I didn’t realize you’d charged me for 56.90 instead of the 30 sandwich I asked for. That was already more than I intended. And I didn’t know the extra bags cost money. That’s on me. My apologies. Give me your payment code, and I’ll pay you right now.” The murmurs around the office showed my colleagues understood the situation now. Many of them shot me sympathetic glances. Patricia, however, glared at me like I was the devil incarnate. “Well, at least you’ve got some decency,” she spat. “But next time, if you don’t pay for the bags, don’t bother coming to Maynard’s. We don’t serve people with no class.” I nearly exploded but forced myself to hold back. I opened Venmo, sent her $1, and stepped back. The app chimed, “Payment received: $1.” I thought that would end things, but Patricia wasn’t done. She pointed a finger at me, her nose in the air. “One dollar? That’s it? Who knows how many bags you’ve swiped before today? I’m asking for $50, at least. You’re rich, right? Don’t act like you can’t afford it.” Seething, I asked through gritted teeth, “How much do you want?” “$50,” she snapped, her tone dripping with entitlement. Knowing I couldn’t waste more time, I transferred the $50 to make her leave. She smirked as the transaction went through. “You’ve got the money, so why not give it to me? Better me than someone else, right?” With that, she left, grinning ear to ear. As I watched her walk away, I clenched my fists. Fifty dollars for two plastic bags? Seriously? I’d let this slide for months—letting her overcharge me for leftovers, thinking it was charity. Dad even wanted to raise their rent, but I told him to hold off. “They’re struggling,” I’d said. “The food’s good. Don’t push them too hard.” And this is how they repay me? Sometimes, being nice just makes you a target. Some people think kindness is weakness. Some horses, when gentle, are ridden rough. Watching Patricia Maynard’s retreating back, I raised an eyebrow. She had no idea who she’d just picked a fight with. 0
As soon as Patricia left, the tension in the office evaporated. My coworkers gathered around to console me. “Jules,” Mia Carter said, “with people like her, you just have to swallow your pride. If you don’t pay, they’ll never stop causing trouble. Don’t let it get to you.” “Seriously,” another coworker said indignantly. “What a vulture. I can’t believe people like her exist.” “Right? That Maynard’s Deli? I used to love their pastrami. Never going back again!” Then, Colin Spencer, who always seemed to delight in needling me, chimed in with his usual smug tone. “Well, Jules, technically you didn’t pay for the bags at first. She’s got a point, doesn’t she? Is it really okay to badmouth an elderly woman like this?” “Why don’t you say it to her face if you’re so righteous?” he added with a challenge in his voice. I turned to him, my gaze sharp as a blade. “Colin, did you just crawl out of a cave or something?” “What? No, why would you—” “Because you sure act like you’re covered in ancient murals. You’ve got so many cracks, you’re practically falling apart.” His face turned green, then white, then red, but he didn’t have a comeback. He just shut his mouth and sulked. People like him? You have to shut them down without mercy. That night, I told my dad about what had happened. He didn’t play the “I told you so” card. Instead, his voice was full of warmth and fury on my behalf. “Jules, don’t worry about it. We’ll stop buying from them. People like that? They’re destined to fail.” “And the storefront?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “Oh, I’ll let it sit empty before I rent it to them again. No one gets to mess with my little girl.” “When’s the lease up?” “About a month.” “Then don’t give them a heads-up. Just kick them out when the time comes,” I said, my tone icy. “Consider it done,” Dad said firmly. Dad wasn’t around much, always busy with work, and Mom, a college professor, spent most of her time on campus. It was just me at home, so their support, even from a distance, meant the world. But truth be told, I wasn’t losing sleep over this. A dog bite doesn’t become your fault just because it hurt. After work, I stopped by the bakery and bought a selection of fancy pastries. On a whim, I also picked up a large box of freshly cut durian—an indulgence I’d been craving. The Maynard family had three kids. Their eldest daughter was off at college, the middle child, Lily, was 13 and in middle school, and the youngest, Noah, was still in elementary. As I walked past Maynard’s Deli, Lily and Noah came bounding over, their faces lighting up at the sight of my bags. Lily trailed behind me like a shadow, her eyes practically glued to the box. “Miss Jules, what did you buy? It looks so yummy!” I saw right through her act. “Just some cake and durian,” I said bluntly. “Why? Got something to say? If not, I’m heading home.” The word “durian” made Noah’s eyes sparkle with excitement. Without hesitation, he reached for my bag. “Miss Jules, how did you know I wanted durian today? Open it up and let me have some!” I lifted the bag out of his reach, my expression unamused. “If you want it so bad, go buy it yourself. Don’t have money? Ask your dad.” Noah scrunched up his face, clearly displeased. “My dad doesn’t have your kind of money. He’d never buy us something so expensive.” Lily quickly chimed in, “Yeah, yeah! If it weren’t for you, we’d never get to taste anything nice like that!” How had I missed it before? These two were just as shameless as their grandmother. A house full of the same brand of entitlement. Out of pity, I used to share with them every time they played the sweet sibling act, calling me “Miss Jules” like I was their favorite neighbor. But today? Not a chance. 0
When I didn’t hand over the goods right away, Noah tried to grab my sleeve. “Give it to me now! I’m telling you to!” “Back off,” I snapped, shaking him off. “I’m not your mom. Why should I give you anything?” Noah’s face darkened. “I know you love the pastrami from our shop. Keep this up, and I’ll make sure Dad stops selling to you!” Lily dropped her sweet-girl act and planted her hands on her hips. “You always shared with us before. Why not today?” Excuse me? Somehow, they’d managed to take shamelessness to a whole new level. Before I could respond, Patricia waddled over, looking every bit as bold as when she stormed into my office. There wasn’t a hint of shame on her face—just the smug air of someone who thought they had the upper hand. “Let’s just put the plastic bag thing behind us, shall we? I won’t hold it against you. No need to sour things between us.” Her tone shifted to one of mock generosity, but it was dripping with condescension. “Kids will be kids. Just let them have a little taste. You’re doing well for yourself, so what’s the harm?” “And you know,” she added, her voice laced with fake sweetness, “my grandson only asks because he likes you. Don’t let him down.” Her audacity nearly made me laugh. I stared her down, my voice ice-cold. “What do you want? A verbal slap? Fine, I’ll deliver.” “Lack of education can be fixed. Bad looks? There’s always surgery. But a rotten heart? That’s incurable. You extorted $50 from me for a plastic bag and have the gall to stand here pretending to play nice? Do you even realize how much face you’re losing?” My sarcasm cut sharper than a knife, leaving no room for politeness. “Is that a tumor on your neck, or did your mom mix up which part of you to toss out at birth and keep the placenta instead?” “If you’re bored, go lick a toilet bowl. Stop buzzing around here like a fly.” Patricia Maynard’s face turned ashen, humiliated in front of her grandkids. She couldn’t stomach the insult, yet all she could do was sputter with rage. “You little tramp! You’ve got no upbringing, no decency! Didn’t your parents teach you manners?” Her anger erupted like a volcano, words flying out uncontrollably. But she didn’t dare lay a finger on me. Instead, she yanked Noah by the ear and dragged him home. “You’re such a disgrace! Do I not feed you? Do I not clothe you? Why are you out here begging people for food?” Noah didn’t back down. “I didn’t take her food! I just wanted it! What’s it to you, you old hag?” “You’re not even my mom! Why do you get to boss me around?” “Oh, just wait till I deal with you, you little brat!” The sound of a child’s wailing soon echoed down the street, blending with her shrieks. 0 Back home, I cranked up the AC, flopped onto the couch, and queued up my favorite TV show. I happily dug into my pastries and durian, savoring every bite. Mid-episode, my tablet suddenly started buffering.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “317512”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic
Leave a Reply