After years of no contact, my mother suddenly showed up at my restaurant. “Your sister’s unemployed—hand this place over to her,” she demanded. When I offered her a server position instead, she shoved me and splashed water in my face. “She’s precious—how dare you make her serve?” she screamed. I didn’t cry. I just replied coldly, “Then get used to being homeless.” She had no idea whose house they were living in…

Evelyn was fifty-five, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that reeked of entitlement. Chloe, twenty-eight and having never worked a single eight-hour shift in her life, stood beside her, examining her manicured nails with an air of profound boredom

As I approached, Evelyn didn’t say hello. She didn’t ask how I had been, or express any pride in the fact that the daughter she threw away was now standing in a chef’s coat with her name embroidered in gold thread. She simply crossed her arms, looked around the packed, buzzing restaurant, and smirked.

“Well,” Evelyn said loudly, her voice cutting through the ambient noise. “It looks like you’ve finally made yourself useful, Maya.”

I stopped a few feet away, my face an emotionless mask. “What do you want, Evelyn?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Maya. We’re here to talk business.”

Business. The word tasted like ash in my mouth.