My Father's Legacy, My Wife's Betrayal

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I was on a business trip when my wife, Lauren, suddenly called, saying she was selling the restaurant my dad had left behind.

Tony, Ive decided to transfer the restaurant to someone else. For 0-0.8 million.

I froze for two seconds, then demanded to know why she hadn't discussed something so big with me beforehand.

She replied self-righteously, Im the legal owner of the restaurant. I have the right to decide.

Thats what your dad said before he passed.

0-0.8 million isnt a small sum. I thought it was a fair price, so I sold it. Whats wrong with that?

She hung up immediately. When I called back, her phone was off.

I was shaking with anger. I sent her a message.

Lauren, if you really sell the restaurant, were getting a divorce!

I canceled all my plans and took the next flight back to the city.

It was five in the afternoon when I landed. I hailed a cab straight home.

I called her on the way, but her phone was still off.

As I approached my apartment building, just as I was about to enter, I saw a black Mercedes parked at the curb.

Lauren was in the passenger seat, laughing and talking to the man in the car.

I retreated behind a nearby tree, watching covertly.

The man was probably in his early thirties.

He rested his arm on the car window, smiling as he asked,

So, its settled then?

Lauren nodded.

Dont worry. Tonys on a business trip. He wont be back for another week.

Are you sure he wont mess things up? It is his dads place, after all.

Lauren let out a cold laugh. Im the legal owner. Ill sell it if I want to. No one can tell me what to do.

Besides, even his dad said when he was alive that the restaurant was mine to manage.

Worst case, we get divorced.

The man smiled. Good.

Lauren smiled too, leaning in and kissing his cheek.

The man reached out and pulled her closer. The two began to kiss passionately in the car.

I gripped my suitcase handle, my knuckles turning white.

They exchanged a few more words, then the man drove off.

Lauren grabbed her bag and went into the building.

I stepped out from behind the tree and stood downstairs, lighting a cigarette.

The early March wind was still chilly. The ash blew away, landing on my shoe.

I looked down at the ashes, remembering my dad on his deathbed, holding my hand and saying, Tony, Im leaving the restaurant to Lauren. Dont overthink it.

Youre busy with work and cant spare the time. Shes ambitious and always wanted to be involved in managing the restaurant. Dont fight over this.

I said I understood.

He gasped for a while, then added, Laurens ambition is a good thing, but you must remember to hold onto this restaurant. Its my lifes work.

I nodded.

Three days later, my father passed away.

At the funeral, Lauren stayed by my side, crying more bitterly than anyone.

At the time, I thought my dad hadnt misjudged her. Thinking about it now, its just so damn laughable.

I dragged my suitcase out of the apartment complex and found a small diner on the street.

The owner came over with water, glanced at my suitcase, and didn't ask any questions.

When the food arrived, I didn't touch it. Instead, I poured myself a glass of hard liquor. The strong alcohol burned my throat and made my eyes water.

My mom passed away when I was three.

My dad never remarried. He started with a small food cart, waking up at three in the morning every day to push his utility cart to the market for ingredients.

In winter, his hands would crack from the cold; in summer, his back would peel from the sun.

After eight years, he finally saved enough to rent his first storefront.

Ten more years, and he bought out the entire three-story building.

He had no other hobbies in his life; his only joy was being in the kitchen.

When I was little, Id come home from school and do my homework right there in the restaurant while he cooked beside me.

The cooking fumes always made his eyes red, but hed chuckle and say he was used to it.

Later, I went to college, got a job, and started traveling a lot for work. Every time I came back, Id stop by the restaurant.

Hed personally cook a couple of dishes for me, sitting across the table, watching me eat, asking about everything.

One time I visited the restaurant, it was a week before he was hospitalized.

He stood at the entrance, smoking, watching the customers come and go, his eyes filled with reluctance.

I thought then that after a few more years, when I wasnt so busy, Id come back and help him.

Unfortunately, I never got the chance.

I refilled my glass and picked up my phone to message my friend, Rubio.

Rubio was a well-known lawyer.

Help me check a license plate. Ill send it to you.

He replied instantly: Whats up?

I sent him the license plate number.

A Mercedes. Why are you checking it? Whose car is it?

A guy I dont know.

There was a few seconds of silence before he called.

Tony, explain yourself. Whats going on?

I briefly told him what happened.

He swore on the phone, then asked, Where are you?

Drinking.

Stay put, Im coming over.

No need. Just help me find out who that guy is.

He swore a few more times and hung up.

I continued drinking.

The owner came to tally the bill, glanced at the empty bottle, and looked like he wanted to say something but held back.

I paid and stood up to leave.

Back home, Lauren was lounging on the couch, watching TV.

Seeing me enter, she paused, then frowned. Why are you back?

My business trip was canceled last minute.

She just mumbled Oh, and her gaze shifted back to the TV. Did you eat? Theres leftover pizza in the fridge.

I looked at her profile and suddenly felt like she was a stranger.

Wed been married for seven years, and I traveled for work more than a dozen times a year.

Every time I came back, shed enthusiastically ask what I wanted to eat, then go to the kitchen and make it for me.

And now, she was telling me to eat cold, leftover pizza from the fridge.

I stood in the living room, saying coldly,

I want to discuss the restaurant again.

She turned her head, a hint of impatience on her face.

Whats there to discuss? Ive already worked out the details with him. The contracts being signed tomorrow.

0-0.8 million? Dont you think thats too little?

I had it appraised. Thats what its worth. Besides, the restaurant business is tough these days. Better sell it while someones interested.

But thats my dads lifes work! I cut her off.

She stood up, her voice rising. Its always about your dad! If I hadnt been running that restaurant, it would have collapsed long ago!

Do you know how hard it is to run a business now? Do you know how annoying it is to deal with those customers and suppliers every day? You dont know anything!

I looked at her. But you cant just sell the restaurant without discussing it with me.

Discuss what? Im the legal owner, I have the right to decide.

Did you see the message I sent? If you really sell the restaurant, were getting a divorce, I roared.

Lauren paused, then sneered.

Tony, are you being childish? She crossed her arms, tilting her head as she looked at me. Just because I want to sell a restaurant, you want a divorce? Do you think marriage is just a game?

I pressed my lips together. Thats not just any restaurant!

Whats so special about it? Its just a building, a few private rooms, a few tables, right?

Yes, your dad worked his whole life on it, but that was his business. What does that have to do with me?

I married you, not that restaurant.

I frowned. You didnt use to say that.

Me, before? she scoffed. You know that was before. I used to go along with you because I didnt want to fight, didnt want us to be at odds.

But now Ive realized I cant spend my whole life tied to some crumby restaurant, dealing with drunk customers who act crazy.

I have my own ideas. I dont want to manage the restaurant anymore. I want a better, more relaxed life. Is that wrong?

After a long silence, I asked her, Who did you sell the restaurant to?

I sold it to George, my high school classmate, she said. Good thing hes a familiar face, otherwise it wouldnt have sold for this much.

I looked at her, but didnt reply.

She grew a bit uncomfortable under my stare, shifting her gaze. Why are you looking at me like that?

I had it appraised before, I slowly began. Given the restaurants reputation over the years, and its monthly revenue, its definitely worth more than 0-0.8 million.

She paused, then frowned. Who did you get to appraise it? They must have been making things up. Do you even know what the restaurant market is like right now?

Of course, I know, I nodded. Actually, you know the truth yourself.

What do I know? She stood up. Georges price is already very fair. Do you think restaurants are easy to sell these days? I talked to him for a long time before he even agreed to take it!

Talked for a long time? Since when did you start talking?

She opened her mouth, but said nothing.

These past few days while I was on my business trip? I continued. Or even earlier?

What are you implying?

She glared at me.

Tony, just say what you mean. Dont be so cryptic.

Im not implying anything, I said, my face calm. I just want to know when you started planning to sell the restaurant, and how you negotiated.

We talked about it last year. George is in the restaurant chain business, and he was interested in our location, wanted to turn it into a flagship store for his brand.

I pressed on. 0-0.8 million C was that your asking price, or his offer?

Her eyes flickered. Does it make a difference?

It does, I said. If it was his offer, then hes taking advantage of you because you dont understand the market.

If it was your asking price, then youre practically giving away my dads legacy.

Her face changed.

Tony! Get your facts straight, whos giving it away?

Ive worked my fingers to the bone managing that restaurant these past two years. I know better than anyone what its worth!

Then tell me, what is it worth?

She opened her mouth but couldnt speak. I watched her, waiting for an answer.

Anyway, the contracts already signed, she turned her face away. Theres no point in talking about this.

Signed?

Signing tomorrow, she said. The letter of intent has been signed.

I said nothing more.

She waited a while. Seeing that I remained silent, she spoke again. Tony, I know you feel its your dads legacy and you dont want to let go.

But have you ever thought, what are we keeping it for?

You dont manage it, and Im tired of managing it. Now that we can sell it for a good price, why not just sell it and be done with it?

0-0.8 million, you call that a good price?

Its not for you, but it is for me, she said, her voice sharp. Ive been with you for so many years, what have you ever given me? Youre always on business trips. Have you ever handled anything at home? Or at the restaurant? Now that I want to sell it, youre suddenly speaking up.

I retorted, So youre selling the restaurant because I travel too much?

Dont flatter yourself, she scoffed. Im selling the restaurant because I dont want to deal with those people anymore. I want an easier life. Is that wrong?

No, its not.

Then thats it, she stood up. Well sign the contract tomorrow. Once the moneys in, well split it fifty-fifty. If you want a divorce, fine by me, I dont care.

I looked into her eyes and asked, Are you serious?

Serious.

I nodded. Alright. Dont regret it.

She let out a laugh, then turned and went into the bedroom, slamming the door shut.

I stood in the living room for a while, then went to the guest room, grabbed a blanket, and lay down on the sofa.

I couldn't sleep. My phone buzzed.

I picked it up. It was a message from Rubio.

Tony, I found him. The car owners name is George. He runs a catering company.

This guy is no small fry!

Attached were several documents.

After carefully reading them, I replied, Are you free tomorrow? Come with me to the restaurant.

No problem!

I put down my phone and closed my eyes.

I dont know how much time passed. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, my phone rang.

I picked it up and saw it was Mira, my mother-in-law.

I answered, and before I could say a word, she started yelling at me.

Tony! What do you mean? Youre divorcing Lauren?

What did she ever do to you? Is it easy for her to manage this household and such a big restaurant all by herself? Now youre saying you want a divorce? Are you even human?

I listened, but didnt respond.

Im telling you, if you dare divorce her, Im not done with you!

Dont think my family is easy to push around! Laurens been with you for seven years, what have you ever given her?

That crumby restaurant your dad left, she helped you manage it, working her fingers to the bone every day, and now she wants to sell it, and youre not happy about it?

Is that yours? Shes the legal owner of that restaurant! She can sell it if she wants to, you cant stop her!

I finally spoke. Are you finished?

She paused.

What did you say?

If youre done, Im hanging up.

You wouldnt dare! You have to explain yourself today!

I hung up and turned off my phone.

The living room was pitch black. I sat up and lit a cigarette.

The smoke drifted upwards, dissipating on the ceiling.

I remembered Lauren crying, hugging me at my dads funeral.

She wept, saying wed make a good life together from now on, and shed manage the restaurant well so my dad could rest easy in heaven.

At first, she went to the restaurant every week, discussing new dishes with the chef, holding meetings with the waitstaff, and reconciling accounts to calculate profits at the end of the month.

Later, she gradually went less often.

I asked her a few times, and she said she was too tired and wanted to hire a manager.

I agreed.

Even later, she stopped reconciling accounts altogether. Shed just take the managers word for it, couldnt be bothered to deal with it.

I thought she was working hard and didnt say much.

Thinking about it now, she probably started planning to sell it around that time.

After finishing my cigarette, I lay back down.

I vaguely drifted off to sleep, and when I opened my eyes again, it was already daylight.

The next morning, Rubio and I arrived at the restaurant.

It was just before lunch prep, waitstaff were setting tables, and the sound of chopping came from the kitchen.

Seeing me enter, several old employees paused, then greeted me one by one.

I responded to each of them. They looked at me, their eyes wanting to say something but holding back.

Someone opened their mouth, but in the end, said nothing.

Rubio followed behind me, whispering, Tony, the vibe is off.

I didn't respond.

Walking to the kitchen door, Chef Anthony was preparing ingredients. He looked up, and his knife stopped.

Tony?

He put down the knife, wiped his hands on his apron, and came out.

Why didnt you say you were back?

I replied, It was a last-minute decision.

He glanced at Rubio behind me, then back at me, and pulled me aside into the stairwell.

Tell me honestly, is Lauren really selling the place?

I looked at him.

Hed worked here for twenty-three years. He started with my dad when the restaurant first opened, worked his way up from kitchen helper to head chef, and watched me grow up.

Yes, Anthony.

I forced a bitter smile.

His face changed. After a few seconds of silence, he asked, Really selling?

Shes already negotiating.

Then you

Dont worry, Anthony, I cut him off. This place isnt going to be sold.

He stared at me for a long time, then nodded. Thats good.

No matter what, me and everyone else are on your side.

A warmth spread through my heart. I said, Thank you.

Dont mention it, he waved his hand. Your dad was always good to me. This place is his lifes work; it cant just be squandered like this.

He turned to leave, then stopped. Oh, right. Yesterday, Lauren brought some people to see the placea guy driving a Mercedes, and a few members of her family.

They walked around, pointing at things.

I know.

Alright, as long as youre aware.

He patted my shoulder and left.

Rubio and I sat down in the main dining room and ordered two glasses of water.

At eleven-thirty, a black Mercedes pulled up to the entrance.

George got out, walked around to the passenger side to open the door, and Lauren stepped out, taking his arm as they walked inside.

Behind them, a white Buick pulled up, and four people got out.

Mira, Laurens uncle Rafael, her aunt Ruth, and Laurens cousin Mark.

They didnt seem surprised to see me inside.

Mira even managed a smilea 'let's see what happens' kind of smile.

George walked over, extending his hand. Tony, right? Ive heard a lot about you. George.

I looked at his outstretched hand, but didnt move.

His hand hovered awkwardly for a second before he pulled it back, smiling. Lauren said you were on a business trip, but I see youre back. Perfect, we can all talk together.

Talk about what?

About the transfer, of course, he smiled. Lauren and I have already agreed. Were signing the contract today. After this, the restaurant will be mine.

Yours?

Thats right. 0-0.8 million, an absolutely fair price. I plan to turn this restaurant into a chain brand, make it a flagship store.

I looked at him, saying nothing.

Lauren walked over, set her bag on the table, and pulled out a stack of documents.

George, the contracts here, she said. Go ahead and sign.

Mira leaned in, eyeing me, and immediately warned, Tony, Im telling you, dont mess things up here.

Lauren is the legal owner, she makes the decisions. Your say doesnt count.

I ignored her, looking at Lauren. Im asking you one more time. Are you really selling?

Of course, Mira cut in. Why else would we be here? Do you think were just bored?

The others immediately chimed in:

Exactly. George is a big shot. Hes doing you a favor by taking this crumby place off your hands. Dont be ungrateful.

Laurens been with you for seven years, what have you ever given her? Now shes selling the place and splitting the money with you, what more do you want?

Mark stood behind them, filming on his phone, muttering, Gonna post this on Twitter, let everyone see what a cheapskate Tony is.

Rubio stood up, pointing at him and snapping.

What are you filming? Put that phone down.

He recoiled a step, but still muttered insults. Who are you? Mind your own business!

Lauren handed the contract to George.

George, ignore them. Just sign.

George took the contract, pulling a pen from his jacket pocket. Tony, dont worry, the restaurant will definitely be better in my hands. You can come by anytime, Ill always treat you well.

He uncapped his pen.

Hold on, I reached out and stopped him.

George looked up, his pen hovering in mid-air. Lauren frowned.

Tony, what are you doing?

Mira immediately shrieked, I knew hed cause trouble! George, ignore him, just sign!

Ruth stepped in front of me:

Tony, Im warning you, dont push your luck!

I ignored them, looking at Lauren.

Dont be in a hurry. Wait until you see these things, then decide whether or not to sell to him.

I took a manila envelope from Rubio and placed it on the table.

Lauren paused. What is it?

See for yourself.

She looked at me suspiciously, then picked up the envelope and pulled out the documents.

After only seeing the first page, her pupils immediately constricted.