Chapter 129

"Ten dollars, and we'll call it even."

Emily Johnson slapped the crumpled bill onto the table with a sharp smack. She had deliberately worn an old shirt today, its cuffs frayed at the edges.

Across from her, Manager Wilson narrowed his eyes, drumming his fingers on the desk. "Miss Johnson, are you trying to insult me?"

"Manager Wilson," Emily leaned forward slightly, "the surveillance footage clearly shows it was your supermarket's shelf that collapsed and damaged my bag. This is a limited-edition piece. Charging you just ten dollars for cleaning is more than generous."

Wilson's lips twitched. He knew exactly why that shelf had given way—it should've been repaired last week, but he'd delayed it to cut costs.

"Twenty," he ground out through clenched teeth.

Emily chuckled softly and pulled a photo from her bag. "I took this at the scene. It clearly shows the loose screws at the base of the shelf. Imagine if this went viral..."

Wilson's face paled instantly. He yanked open his drawer and grabbed a handful of change. "Fine! Ten it is!"

Emily leisurely tucked the money away. As she turned to leave, she added casually, "Oh, and you might want to fix those shelves soon. Next time, it might not just be a bag that gets hit..."

She left the sentence hanging, leaving Wilson alone in his office, wiping sweat from his brow.

Outside the supermarket, Emily pulled out her phone and texted her best friend: "Done. You're buying dinner tonight."

Her phone buzzed immediately: "That trick again? How many times is this now?"

Emily grinned as she slipped the ten-dollar bill into her wallet. She'd been using this strategy for three years—and it had never failed her yet.

BANG!

Emily Johnson shoved the door open with such force that the wooden panel slammed against the wall. The three figures inside froze mid-motion, caught red-handed.

"What are you doing?" Emily's voice cut through the air like a blade.

Margaret Wilson flinched, the iron pot slipping from her grasp and clattering to the floor.

"W-we were just visiting Ethan..." she stammered, her face pale.

"Liar! You were stealing!" David Stone planted his hands on his hips and glared.

Tommy piped up in his tiny voice, "We saw you!"

Margaret's two sons shrank against the wall, not daring to breathe. Everyone knew how formidable Emily was—hadn't she been the one to send Peter Wilson to jail?

Emily narrowed her eyes. "Want to settle this privately? Ten dollars."

"Ten dollars?!" Margaret shrieked.

"Or we can take it to the brigade leader," Emily said coolly.

"I'll pay!" Margaret spat through gritted teeth. "But I don't have it on me—"

"Go get it." Emily pointed to the door. "Your boys stay here."

The two teenagers panicked. "Mom!"

Margaret shot them a warning look. "Stay put!" Then she bolted outside.

The yard fell silent. The boys hunched their shoulders, stealing nervous glances at Emily.

"Thinking of hitting me?" Emily asked suddenly.

"No! Never!" they yelped in unison. As if they'd dare—not with Michael Stone's fists backing her up.

Tommy dragged over a stool. "Sit, Mama."

Emily sat, perfectly composed. Within half an hour, Margaret came panting back, clutching crumpled bills.

"Count it," she thrust the money at Emily.

Emily took her time verifying the amount before waving them off. "Go."

Once the trio slunk away, Emily turned to the children. "Come on, let's go home for cookies."

That afternoon, Ethan Miller had just come down from the hills when David called out to him.

"Emily wants you?" Ethan blinked in confusion.

Emily pressed the ten dollars into his hand. "Your sister-in-law tried stealing. This is compensation."

Ethan's eyes widened. "But—"

"Keep it." Emily smiled. "Should help you get some proper supplies."

Ethan clenched the money, his eyes suspiciously bright. This wasn't just ten dollars—it was the warmth of someone standing up for him.