Her face flushed red instantly.

"You… what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing at all. You should go. Take care of your child. Don't let him go through what I went through."

I went upstairs without looking back.

On the day of the trial, Beth did not appear in person.

Her physical condition did not allow her to leave the hospital. The court arranged a remote video link.

On the screen, Beth was wearing an oxygen mask, sitting in her hospital bed, with a nurse helping to steady the tablet.

She was nothing but skin and bones.

The judge asked her: "Defendant Beth, do you have any response to the plaintiff’s claims?"

Beth’s voice came from behind the mask, muffled and unclear.

"I admit to it."

Everyone in the courtroom paused in surprise.

Her defense lawyer was also stunned, quickly leaning toward the screen: "The defendant means—"

"I said I admit to it." Beth’s voice was slightly louder.

"I will pay back what I owe. But I truly have no money right now."

The judge looked toward Sienna: "Does the plaintiff have any response to this?"

Sienna stood up: "Our side requests that the court enforce the judgment according to law after it takes effect. If the defendant has property available for enforcement, we request mandatory enforcement. If she is temporarily unable to fulfill the obligation, she can make payments in installments, but the debt will not be forgiven."

The judge struck the gavel.

The verdict was in.

Beth was to return 348,000 RMB to Jiang Nora. The portion temporarily unable to be paid would be settled in annual installments until the debt was cleared.

Walking out of the courthouse, Sienna said to me: "She really doesn't have anything of value in her name right now. The enforcement of this judgment might take a very long time."

"That’s okay," I said. "It’s not the money I wanted."

"Then what did you want?"

"An explanation. A black-and-white explanation. Let the whole world know that what she owed me was not just a steamed bun."

Sienna looked at me and nodded.

That evening, I took a trip to the military family compound in the east of the city.

The lock on Unit 501 had already been changed; I was the one who had it done.

I pushed the door open and stood in the empty living room.

I had already taken down the wedding photo that used to hang on the wall.

I took the old photo out of my bag—the one of my father holding me—put it in a newly bought frame, and hung it right in the center of the living room.

The soldier in the photo was smiling brightly.

The little girl in his arms was showing off her missing front teeth.

"Dad, the house is back. The money is back, too."

"Everything you left for me, I didn't lose a single thing."

Outside the window, the sunset dyed the entire room in warm colors.

Chapter 22

The property was recovered. The pension verdict was in.

But it wasn't over.

Because Gary still had that 300,000 yuan debt—the loan he took out using my father’s house as collateral. The bank couldn't recover it, and the full liability rested on him.

Even more troublesome was the 150,000 yuan "kickback" that the developer, Zhou Dafu, had transferred to my second uncle; it had now become a hot potato.

My second uncle, Zhao Jianguo, had sent that text message the night I went to the Civil Affairs Bureau to check the marriage records, which was his final gesture of goodwill.

But I didn't forgive him.

He participated in the embezzlement of my father’s legacy, regardless of what mindset led him to send that text later on.

Sienna helped me sort out the current legal situation.

"The property case is fully executed, and title has been restored. The pension case verdict is in effect, to be executed in installments. Additionally, Gary is suspected of engaging in activity bordering on contract fraud by using illegally obtained property for a mortgage. If the bank files a report—"

"Has the bank filed a report?"

"I inquired for you; the bank is still internally evaluating. The amount of 300,000 isn't large enough to make the cost of pursuing criminal proceedings worthwhile for them."

"What about Zhou Dafu?"

"Regarding the matter between Zhou Dafu and your second uncle, if it can be verified as commercial bribery for the purpose of demolition compensation, it could be reported to the relevant authorities. But to be honest, evidence is hard to obtain."

"Don't bother," I said.

"Hmm?"

"I don't want to waste my energy on these people anymore. What needed to be retrieved has been retrieved, and the necessary lawsuits have been finished. Let them face the rest themselves."

Sienna looked at me: "You are more mature than I expected."

"It’s not maturity. It’s just that they aren't worth it."

That afternoon, Cole invited me to his office.

His office was on the 23rd floor of an office building, with floor-to-ceiling windows facing half the city.

"There’s something I haven't told you," he said, sitting behind his desk with a rarely seen serious expression.

"What is it?"

"The Series B financing for Nora’s Kitchen is finished. The valuation is 80 million, with 15 million in capital received."

I was stunned.

"Didn't you say it was still being negotiated?"

"It finished last week. I was waiting for things on your side to settle down before telling you."

"Who invested?"

"Two institutions; one is a fund specializing in consumer goods, and the other is a strategic investor in the catering industry. They looked at your brand data, store model, and recent media coverage—yes, including Fang Ran’s documentary. Your brand search volume increased by 400% after the program aired."

"Because of my story?"

"Not entirely. Your food is good to begin with." He pushed a stack of documents on the desk toward me. "But there’s no denying that these recent events made more people aware of the story of you and Nora’s Kitchen. A martyr’s daughter, starting from nothing and achieving this through her own two hands. That narrative itself is brand value."

I sat opposite him, looking at the investment letter of intent.

80 million valuation.

15 million received.

A year ago, I was still worrying about the renovation budget for my fifth shop.

"Cole."

"Yeah?"

"When you invested in me, did you ever think it would come to this?"

"To be honest?" He leaned back in his chair. "No. At the time, I just thought your cooking was good and that you were reliable."

"That simple?"

"In investing, I fear complex people most. You are the least complex entrepreneur I’ve ever met."

I flipped through the investment letter of intent.

"After the money arrives, I want to do three things."

"Go ahead."

"First, open a sixth shop in the provincial capital. Second, build a central kitchen to standardize the supply chain. Third—"

"Third?"

"Rent a small storefront next to the military family compound in the East City."

"What for?"

"To open a breakfast shop. Provide free breakfast for military families and veterans."

Cole looked at me without saying a word.

After five seconds, he picked up a pen and signed the investment letter of intent.

"I’m following on with this project."

Chapter 23

The day the sixth branch of Nora’s Kitchen opened in the provincial capital was a Saturday.

The shop was tucked into an alley in the commercial district, maintaining the same style as the first store in the old town—six tables, serving only twelve guests per day.

It was packed on opening day.

Reservations were already booked out three months in advance.

Since Fang Ran’s documentary aired, Nora’s Kitchen had become something of a symbol. People weren't just coming for the food; they were coming for a story.

But I didn't want to make a living off of a story.

"Nora, there's a food blogger who wants to come for a review. They have 1.2 million followers," Lu said, holding her phone up to me.

"Tell them to join the queue."

"They said they could help us promote it for free—"

"We don't need free promotion. Nora’s Kitchen isn't short on customers; we’re short on good chefs. Go help me contact a few culinary schools in the city; I’m going to recruit next week."

Lu nodded and ran off.

On the third day of business, an unexpected guest arrived.

I was busy at the stove when the server walked in.

"Nora, there’s a customer outside who doesn’t have a reservation, but she insists on seeing you."

"We don't serve those without reservations."

"She said her name is Lucy."

My hand paused.

The oil in the pan almost splashed out.

"Let her in. Use the private room."

Lucy sat in the private room, looking different from the last time I saw her at my apartment building.

She was wearing a clean white shirt, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, with no makeup on, but she looked much more composed.