“What kind of employees are you training? Get over here right now!”
…
Not long ago I had just moved Sophie from San Francisco to New York and hadn’t had time to inspect these chain restaurants.
I never expected such a ridiculous scene on my very first visit.
Soon, an impatient female voice came through the phone:
“Lady, who the hell are you?”
“What my employees do is none of your business!”
“Mind your own damn business!”
I was dumbfounded by her arrogance. Before I could reply, she hung up.
The receptionist folded her arms, sneering:
“And who do you think you are to demand our boss show up? Our boss is Mr. Shaw’s girlfriend.”
“A country bumpkin like you probably doesn’t even know who Mr. Shaw is, huh?”
“Well, let me tell you. That’s Edward Shaw, the wealthiest man in New York. When he stamps his foot, the whole city shakes.”
“You dare cause trouble in his girlfriend’s restaurant? You must have a death wish!”
Her words made my eyes turn cold.
Wasn’t Edward Shaw my husband?
Since when did he have a girlfriend?
Sophie tugged at my sleeve and whispered, “Mom, is she talking about Dad?”
Hearing this, the receptionist, Rachel Lee, mocked cruelly: