Chapter 2

The locals all knew what had happened, and whispers spread quickly.

Once everyone was nearly done eating, I brought up the payment rules.

"Don't worry about today. But go home and tell your families: from now on, none of you are touching the dishes."

"You pay what you can, and I'll give you a discount."

"Whatever's left unsold at night, I'll give away for free. Beyond that, my hands are tied."

The room fell dead silent. The low-income kids looked at one another.

A few had tears in their eyes, but nobody complained.

I could hear their hushed conversations later on, and every single one of them blamed Ethan.

None of that mattered to me now. I just couldn't afford another investigation.

I worked hard for my money, and I didn't have cash lying around to pay fines.

What if next time it was five thousand? Or ten?

With so many people coming through every day, I couldn't afford a target on my back.

Summer vacation was usually the hardest time for these kids.

Without school meal programs, food was hard to come by, even if they didn't have classes.

Still, fewer crowds meant less trouble for me.

What I never expected was that Ethan would actually have the nerve to ask me for a favor.

He'd gotten into NYU, but his family was too broke to host a celebration dinner at a decent banquet hall, so they set their sights on my diner.

One morning, right as I opened up, Ethan walked over, his entire family trailing behind him.

Now that their son was headed to a top university, his parents and grandparents, who were usually nowhere to be seen, had suddenly materialized.

His father stepped up first, pulling out a cigarette to offer me.

I waved it off. "Don't smoke."

Then I ground my own half-finished cigarette under my shoe. His dad froze awkwardly.

Ethan cleared his throat. "Mr. Cooper, we want to host a graduation party for my college acceptance. We'd like to do it here at your place. How much would you charge?"

I waved my hand and turned him down flat. "Can't do it. This is a fast-casual diner, not a banquet hall."

"Every business has its lane. I have to play by the rules, right?"

"Besides, graduation parties belong in nice restaurants. What do I have here worth celebrating over?"

"The last thing I need is someone reporting me for operating outside my licensed business scope."

Hearing that, Ethan's father's face darkened instantly.

He slapped his hand down on the outdoor table. "Right here is fine! We just want to treat his teachers to a meal. Just whip up twelve combo platters!"

I still refused. "Sorry, but in this line of work, we have to stay strictly compliant. I was already reported for child labor, and I'm not taking any chances."

"Why are you being so stubborn?" Ethan's father snapped, his temper flaring. "I get it, you're still bitter because Ethan reported you!"

"Look, credit where it's due—we appreciate that you fed him, but child labor is wrong, plain and simple."

"Our Ethan getting into NYU this time was pure luck!"

"If it weren't for you, he could've easily gotten into an Ivy League school like Harvard!"

My eyes went wide with disbelief. "What... what did you just say? Because of me?"

"Of course! He was Ivy League material! If he hadn't wasted all that time cleaning your tables, he could have spent those hours studying!"

I lost my temper on the spot. I whipped around to glare at Ethan, but he just smirked at me.

I saw right through it. They were trying to guilt-trip me into giving them a cheap handout.

Ethan's grandmother shoved her way to the front.

"Hosting it here is doing you a favor! It's free publicity!"

"Everyone knows our Ethan ate here for six years! Once word spreads, your business will go through the roof!"

I let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "So you do remember it was six years! Not six days!"