Chapter 2

"Folks, don't you want to get back the money you worked your asses off for?"

"Don't you want to see Francis get what's coming to him?"

"In a few days I'll have the whole thing ready."

"Who's got the guts to see this through with me?"

"Ms. Armstrong, how exactly do you plan to pull this off?" Zachery Lawrence, the seafood restaurant owner, sent a voice message.

"He paid me $1,000, so I'll give him exactly $1,000 worth of service."

"What can you even do with $1,000?" asked Blake Finch from the furniture store.

"Give him a funeral worth every penny he paid," I replied.

"You'd really go through with that? We thought you were just joking earlier. His boss is Mortimer Weiss, a big shot in this city with a lot of pull around here."

Yvette Lambert, the flower shop owner, fired off a string of horrified emojis.

"His boss is Mortimer, then what? Does being Mortimer’s assistant give him the right to bully us into doing business?"

"Francis is running his con in Mortimer's name. Mortimer probably doesn't even know."

"Let's blow this whole thing wide open and see who ends up too ashamed to show his face."

Everyone went quiet for a moment.

"I'm in. I've swallowed enough humiliation," Zachery answered first.

"Count me in too. Worst case, I lose my business. But I'm sick of swallowing this anger."

Blake Finch from the furniture store said right after.

"Ms. Armstrong, you tell us how, and we'll follow your lead to the end." Yvette chimed in too.

Seeing everyone rally behind me, I knew I wasn't fighting this battle alone.

"Good. Everyone listen up. Here's what we're going to do."

Just then Francis sent over a menu, with a message.

"Vanessa, make every dish on this menu. One dish short and I'm coming after you."

I opened the image.

Australian lobster, king crab, top-grade wagyu, caviar.

A full 108-course menu, with every dish costing a small fortune.

"Assistant Francis, a $1,000 deposit won't even come close to covering this," I replied.

Francis wrote back.

"I don't care whether you can pull it off. If you can't pull it off, that's on you."

"If you can't make it, pay for it out of your own pocket."

"You run a business and you don't even grasp that much?"

I looked at the threats on the screen and couldn't help laughing.

"Assistant Francis, even the best chef can't cook without ingredients."

"$1,000 won't even buy one claw from a decent lobster."

"If you're truly serious about throwing this birthday gala, put down a proper deposit."

"Besides, I've got other customers' orders in my shop. My team is short-handed. We can't turn out this many elaborate dishes all at once."

The message had barely gone out when a high-priority alert suddenly flashed across my shop's dashboard.

"Your shop has been forcibly taken offline for suspected policy violations. All orders have been canceled."

I froze.

Right after, Francis's message popped up.

"Now you can focus on the order, can't you?"

"Those other orders in your shop, I already took care of them for you."

"Try to back out again, and your shop will never be restored."

I took a breath, then switched straight back to the business owners' group chat.

"Folks, my online shop just got reported and shut down."

The messages started pouring in.

"Way too arrogant. The man thinks he's untouchable. I can't take it anymore."

"Ms. Armstrong, we can't just let this slide."

"Right. Let's fight back."

Watching the owners seethe with rage, I typed out my reply.

"Since he wants to play dirty, let's give him a funeral he'll never forget."

"Does anyone know someone who can put together a truly creepy funeral display?"

The chat went silent for a few seconds.

Then Yvette sent a message.

"My cousin runs a little special-effects workshop back home. He makes lifelike wax figures and creepy funeral props."

"He's done haunted-house displays before. Give him a photo of something, and he can make a replica so realistic it'll give you chills."

"For $200, he'll turn the whole venue into the kind of place people won't want to stay in after dark."