Chapter 5

"Wait for me." But clearly, Sarah wasn't going to let me off that easily.

She suddenly let go of Matthew and hurried toward me, saying, "Oh my, how did you end up in such a mess? Come on, get up." She reached out her hand toward my arm to help me up.

Looking at the concerned expression on her face in that instant, I even had a ridiculous illusion.

However, just as my fingers were about to touch her support, something suddenly tripped me!

It was Sarah's toe, quietly extended!

I was completely unprepared. My already weak body lost balance again, and I fell heavily back onto the alcohol-soaked floor.

A dull thud, and I was even more of a mess than before.

Worse still, the splashing dirty liquid, a few drops landed right on Sarah's expensive dress hem and her clean silver high heels.

Sarah immediately cried out, jumped back half a step, looked down at her dress and shoes, her face instantly filled with exaggerated distress and grievance.

"My dress! And these shoes... These are the limited edition I just won at auction, only twenty pairs in the world!"

She looked up, her gaze toward me now filled with obvious calculation.

"I'm so sorry," her tone was gentle but couldn't hide the mockery, "I didn't hold you steady, my hand slipped. Sorry!"

Staring at her smug look, I trembled with anger.

But I knew her purpose was to enjoy watching me break down and humiliate myself.

I gritted my teeth secretly, used all my strength to stand up by myself, my back straight.

"It's fine," I answered calmly, "thanks for your kindness."

Sarah seemed dissatisfied with my reaction. The tears or angry outburst she wanted didn't appear.

Her eyes rolled, her gaze fell back on the barely visible stain on her shoe tip, and she suddenly smiled.

I saw her elegantly turn around, walk straight to a nearby chair for guests, and sit down gracefully.

Then, in front of everyone, she slowly crossed her legs, lifted the soiled shoe high up, and the pointed toe aimed right at me.

"However," she drew out her words, staring at me viciously, "you just dirtied my shoes. What are you going to do about it?"

She wiggled her toe slightly, looking down on me, "Clean them for me. Use that clean handkerchief on you."

As soon as she finished speaking, the surroundings became terrifyingly quiet.

The onlookers' eyes grew more excited, and the manager stood aside, sweating nervously but didn't dare speak.

I knew he was just afraid I'd offend these two important guests.

I wanted to resist, wanted to take off that handkerchief and throw it in Sarah's face, wanted to vent fiercely, to pour out all the pain, anger, and unwillingness accumulated during this time!

But I couldn't do that.

For my mother's next treatment payment, for this job that kept me alive...

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and when I opened them again, only numb silence remained.

I reached out to take the white cloth from my uniform pocket.

Just as I squatted down, reached out my hand, ready to endure this ultimate humiliation, a hand suddenly shot out and gripped my wrist tightly.

It was Matthew.

He had somehow come close, his face dark.

His cold gaze fixed on Sarah sitting elegantly in the chair, his voice carrying barely suppressed anger, "Enough! Sarah! You tripped her yourself, the dress and shoes got dirty because you asked for it! It has nothing to do with her!"

Then he suddenly turned back to look at me, his eyes churning with complex emotions, anger, embarrassment, and perhaps a trace of sympathy...

His Adam's apple bobbed, his voice hoarse, "You don't have to..."

"Mr. George," I interrupted him, using all my strength to pull my wrist from his burning palm, smiling at him, "The customer is always right. Providing satisfactory service to guests and solving their problems is my duty."

After speaking, I no longer looked at him, nor at Sarah's dark face.

I lowered my head and carefully wiped that tiny stain on the expensive shoe tip.

The entire hallway was silent.

Time stretched out. Every second, I soaked in cold humiliation, yet simultaneously silently whipping the consciences of certain onlookers.

The shoe was clean.

I stood up, faced Sarah again, and asked with a smile, "Miss Sarah, are you satisfied?"

Sarah's face remained dark.

Matthew's sharp rebuke earlier had embarrassed her in front of everyone.

She forced a smile, glared at me fiercely, trying to regain control, "Hmph, you cleaned it well enough. I must say, you're really good at cleaning. You're suited to be a janitor, right, Matthew?" As she spoke, she looked meaningfully at Matthew, seeking some agreement or reconciliation.

Matthew didn't answer. He didn't even look at Sarah again.

His gaze fell heavily on me. After a long silence, he finally said, "Let's go."

Before the words finished, he turned and walked toward the private room without looking back, leaving Sarah and a group of stunned onlookers behind.

"Matthew! Matthew! Wait for me!" Sarah hastily grabbed her purse, her high heels somewhat chaotic, and hurried after him.

The crowd dispersed with murmurs.

John breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to yell at me, "Hurry up and clean this up! You're really unlucky!"

I stood there, clutching the soiled handkerchief tightly, the wound on my fingertip somehow bleeding again, staining the white cloth red.

That night, John scolded me for half an hour, docked all my wages, and made me pay for the spilled alcohol. I listened silently without arguing.

By the time I got off work, it was already 2 AM. Just as I was about to change clothes, my phone vibrated.

It was a text from an unknown number: [Miss Mary, this is Thomas Barrow. I saw you at the club tonight and really admire your temperament. If you spend one night with me, I'll pay for your mother's medical expenses.]