Chapter 3

Some people around us snickered.

"That lady is something else, so unreliable and still blaming her daughter."

"Poor girl, stuck with a mom like that."

My mom's face flushed then paled, her lips trembling for a long time before she finally managed to blurt out, "Don't give me that nonsense! Just make them let me go!"

"Alright, two choices." I pulled out my phone. "First, you apologize to the security guard and pay for his medical expenses. Second, the police take you in, and you face detention and fines. You choose."

"You ungrateful wretch! I gave birth to you, I raised you..."

"Choose."

She glared at me, her eyes bloodshot.

More and more people gathered to watch the scene.

The security guard lowered his restraining device, also waiting.

Seeing her delay, I lost patience and started dialing numbers, ready to call the police.

"Wait!" She finally lowered her head, squeezing out through gritted teeth: "I'm sorry."

The security guard didn't say anything.

She gritted her teeth, pulled out a handful of crumpled bills from her pocket, and shoved them into the guard's hand without counting.

"That's all?" I frowned, turning to the guard. "If that's not enough, maybe you should scratch my mom a couple of times too. Otherwise, she won't learn her lesson."

"I'll get it! I'll get it, alright?!" My mom shrieked, shooting me a furious look, and pulled out a few more bills.

I nodded, and only then did the security guard accept it.

I swiped my access card, and my mom dashed inside as if escaping.

Once inside the apartment, she started yelling obscenities.

"You unfilial daughter! You sided with an outsider to make your mother suffer! And you made me apologize to that worthless security guard? Does he deserve it?"

"That rotten security guard looked down on me! This isn't over; I'll make him pay!"

I nodded. "Go ahead and do whatever you want. After all, you learn your lesson when you suffer a loss."

She was choked into silence by my words and stormed back to her room in a fit of rage.

The next day, I was at work, my phone bombarded with messages.

My mom sent a pile of photos, all of the persimmon trees in the complex.

"Can I pick these?" she asked me.

I ignored her.

"If you don't answer, I'm picking them."

A while later, she added, "Watch how I get back at that rotten security guard. I'll make sure he loses his job."

I smirked coldly. Go ahead and cause more trouble. Let's see how big a fall you take this time.

When I got home that evening, I opened the door and froze.

The living room was completely filled with persimmons; there was nowhere to even step.

My mom sat on the couch, legs crossed, happily munching on snacks.

Several empty persimmon peels were on the table.

"You're back." She beamed with triumph. "Today I finally got my revenge."

"You picked all the persimmons?"

"Yes! Not a single one left!" My mom gloated. "Today I saw that security guard watering the trees, so these persimmons must be his. I'll let him grow them! I'll let him act all smug! I picked them all bare, I'll infuriate him!"

I was silent for two seconds.

"These are ornamental persimmons. You can't eat them."

My mom's hand, cracking snacks, paused.

"And he didn't plant them; it's his job to water and maintain them."

"Bullshit!" She slammed down a snack peel. "His job? Why would he be so dedicated, watering them so carefully? I'm telling you, he planted them!"

"Rich people are so stuck up! They look so good, but you can't eat them? Who are you trying to fool?" She grabbed a persimmon, rubbed it on her clothes, and took a big bite. "These are all pretty sweet, aren't they?"

Chewing on the persimmon, she grew smug again. "Even if he didn't plant them, with the persimmons gone, his boss will definitely chew him out. That's called increasing his workload!"

I looked at her, saying nothing.

"You little brat, why are you staring at me?"

"The complex has surveillance cameras," I reminded her.

She paused, then waved a dismissive hand. "So what about cameras? What's the big deal about picking a few rotten persimmons? Are they going to arrest me?"

No sooner had she spoken than the doorbell rang.

I went to open the door.

The property manager stood at the entrance, next to a police officer in uniform.

"Hello, Officer," the officer said, flashing his badge. "Is your mother home?"