My Son Billed Me for Every Bite

Catherine's POV

I used to be the executive chef at a three-Michelin-star restaurant in New York. Then I worked in my son’s kitchen for three years without being paid a cent.

I sold my old house in Brooklyn to cover the restaurant’s startup costs. I even used my retirement savings to pay for the restaurant’s premium ingredients.

That night, I prepared an entire dinner for eighty guests by myself. By the time I finished, it was after midnight, and my stomach hurt from hunger. My protégé, Leon, cooked me a steak with an extra piece of Wagyu.

I had barely taken my first bite when my daughter-in-law, Jessica, stormed in and knocked the plate to the floor.

“David, get in here! Your mother’s hiding in the kitchen, stuffing herself with our most expensive ingredients!”

Leon jumped to my defense. “Chef paid for that herself!”

Jessica sneered. “With what money? David’s the one supporting her.”

But David hadn’t given me a cent in three years.

I looked at my son, waiting for him to stand up for me.

Instead, he tugged irritably at his tie. “Mom, taking the restaurant’s most expensive food without asking is stealing.”

Jessica pressed harder. “Today it’s beef. Tomorrow she’ll be stealing from the register.”

David nodded. “Just apologize to Jessica, Mom.”

I laughed in disbelief and ripped off my apron.

“Apologize? I quit.”

It was one in the morning, and my stomach burned so badly that I was close to passing out.

Leon caught me before I fell. “Catherine, sit down. Please.”

I had taken Leon in, raised him, and trained him myself. We weren’t related by blood, but when he heard that I had moved to Los Angeles, he quit his job as sous chef at a five-star hotel and came to work beside me.

The moment he saw how pale I was, his eyes filled with tears.

“David and Jessica are heartless! They’re out front drinking champagne because the restaurant broke another sales record, while they leave you back here doing all the work. They know how bad your stomach is. Let me make you something.”

He opened the refrigerator, gathered some leftover ingredients and an extra piece of Wagyu, and cooked me a steak.

I had paid five hundred dollars for that beef myself. I had planned to cook it for David’s birthday the next day.

But right then, I desperately needed something to eat.

Leon sliced the steak, set the plate in front of me, and handed me a fork.

My hand trembled as I lifted a small piece to my mouth.

Someone kicked the kitchen door open.

High heels clicked sharply across the tile. My daughter-in-law, Jessica, stormed in wearing a designer evening gown, with alcohol on her breath.

Her gaze swept over the counter before landing on the plate in front of me.

“I knew it!” Jessica gave a shrill, mocking laugh. “David! Come see what your mother’s doing! We’re out front entertaining our guests while she hides back here eating our most expensive food!”

David walked in right behind her, dressed in a sharp suit and looking pleased with himself.

The moment he saw the beef on my plate, he frowned.

“Mom, how could you?”

I froze, unable to swallow the food in my mouth.

“I... I was starving.”

“So being hungry gives you the right to steal?”

Jessica rushed over and slapped the plate off the counter. It shattered on the floor, and the steak rolled to a stop beside the trash can.

“Do you have any idea how much that Wagyu costs? You just ate hundreds of dollars in one bite! You’re nothing but an old thief! You’re robbing your own family!”

Leon shook with rage as he stepped between us.

“Shut up! Chef bought that beef with her own money yesterday. It has nothing to do with this restaurant!”

Jessica rolled her eyes.

“She paid for it herself? She’s an old woman who spends every day washing vegetables and cooking in the back. Where would she get that kind of money? David pays all her expenses anyway. If she bought it with David’s money, then it belongs to David.”

Allowance?

David hadn’t given me a single cent in three years.

More than that, I had sold my house in Brooklyn to provide the startup money for The Golden Oak.

I moved Leon aside and looked my son straight in the eye.

“David, is that what you think too? Do you really believe I stole from you?”

I waited for him to defend me. Just one sentence would have been enough.

Instead, David tugged irritably at his tie.

“Jessica’s right, Mom. If you wanted something to eat, you could’ve asked me. Or you could’ve bought something cheaper. But taking the most expensive ingredient in the restaurant without saying anything is stealing. Why do you have to make things so difficult for me?”

My mind went blank. I felt cold all over.

This was the son I had carried for nine months. The son I had sacrificed everything to send to college. The son I had helped start a business.

“David, be honest with me. Who paid to open this restaurant? Who developed every menu for the past three years? Everything I’ve done for you—”

“Enough!” David cut me off. “Stop bringing up the past! You chose to do all that. The restaurant is finally doing well, and now you’re trying to sabotage it!”