Vengeance in a Glass of Wine
The blue-and-white porcelain plate in my hand nearly slipped to the floor.
Isn't this the preparation site for the Woods Hotel's Thanksgiving banquet?
Am I not already dead?
On this same day last year, it was here as well.
Tina Miller, my workmate, also a manager of the Woods Hotel, held a jar of red wine from Country A, saying it was meant to entertain the war veterans.
I stopped her, saying the veterans could never tolerate that—it was wine from the nation that had once invaded our country, a painful reminder of their bloodied memories.
She, however, ran to find Ray Woods, the president of the Woods Hotel and also my husband, crying and accusing me of deliberate obstruction and ignorance of refined etiquette.
Later, she colluded with the social media to slander me as worshiping foreign things and pandering to foreign powers.
I was dismissed by the Woods Hotel, subjected to cyberbullying by netizens, and ultimately took my last breath in a hospital bed.
"Ms. Tyler." My assistant's voice pulled me back to reality, "Ms. Miller wants to see you."
I nodded, set down the plate I was holding, wiped my hands, and walked toward the front hall.
Sure enough, Tina stood in front of the bar, holding a deep brown wine jar, the characters of Country A emblazoned on it—precisely the same red wine from last year.
"Jessica." Seeing me, Tina forced a feigned smile. "This wine was brought back from Country A by someone I entrusted. The vintage is excellent, the flavor mellow. Using this to entertain the veterans tonight is the only way to maintain the proper standard."
I understood her calculation, and my heart suddenly tightened; the pain of a past life pierced my heart like a needle.
"That's inappropriate."
I tried to keep my voice steady: "Most veterans endured the war painfully; the country of the wine once brought our country great suffering and would only reopen their wounds."
Tina's smile froze. "What do you know? This is a fine vintage, a sign of respect for the veterans! Besides, Mr. Woods has already approved it."
I stopped arguing with her and turned toward Ray Woods' office.
When I pushed the door open, he was sitting at his computer handling documents. Seeing me enter, he frowned and said, "What's the problem?"
"Tina wants to serve red wine from Country A, which once invaded our nation, to the veterans. I disagree."
I said bluntly.
Ray put down the mouse and leaned back in his chair. "It's just a bottle of wine, isn't it? Tina says it's appropriate, so it is. Don't make a fuss over nothing."
Looking at his indifferent face, I suddenly found it laughable—in my past life, I was exactly like this, arguing with him over and over, only to be dismissed as unreasonable troublemaking.
This time, I won't make the same mistake again.
"Ray Woods." I took a document out of my bag and placed it in front of him. "This is the marital property division agreement. I'm transferring the shares under my name, along with half of our jointly owned property, to our daughter Serena."
Ray was stunned. He picked up the document and skimmed through it. "What do you mean? You want to divorce me?"
"Not a divorce, just preparing in advance."
I looked into his eyes. "If something goes wrong tonight, I don't want Serena to get caught up in it."
Ray thought I was throwing a tantrum. Impatiently, he signed: "Fine,. I'll sign it for you. Just don't cause any more trouble with Tina."
I folded the agreement, slipped it into my bag, and turned to leave the office.
The corridor lights were bright, yet my mind felt clear—as if the debts of my past life, I must now collect them, one by one.
Tina Miller, Ray Woods, what you owe me, what you owe Serena, don't think you can escape.
Back in the kitchen, Tina was still boasting to the staff about that bottle of red wine.
I ignored her and picked up my phone to call Serena's homeroom teacher. "Miss Murphy, I might have some urgent matters tonight; please look after Serena for a while."
After hanging up the phone, I began preparing the banquet dishes — the pork had to be stewed for a full three hours, the cakes steamed fresh and sliced on the spot; every dish had to do justice to tonight's guests and honor those veterans who shed their blood for the country.
At six in the evening, the first group of veterans had already arrived.
They wore neat suits, medals pinned to their chests, and clutched walking sticks in their hands. Although their steps were slow, they carried an air of dignity.
I stood at the kitchen doorway, watching them enter the banquet hall, my heart tightening — the youngest among these elders was already ninety years old; their hands bore the scars of war, and their eyes concealed countless stories.
Tina carried the jar of red wine and smiled warmly as she approached. "Gentlemen, this red wine from Country A is something I specially prepared for you. Its vintage is rare, and the taste exceptional. Please, have a taste."
Just as she was about to open the jar, an elderly veteran with graying hair suddenly pressed down on her hand.
The veteran's hand was rough, his knuckles prominent, marked by a long scar. "Lady, does this wine come from the country that once invaded ours?"
Tina nodded. "Yes. This is authentic red wine produced with traditional craftsmanship from Country A. It is quite rare."
The Veteran's face darkened instantly. He jerked his hand away from Tina and shoved it aside. The wine jar smashed onto the floor with a loud clang; deep red wine spread across the ground, pungent with the sharp scent of alcohol.
"Do you know how I lost this arm?"
The Veteran pointed to his empty left sleeve, his voice shaking. "It was severed by the bayonet of that nation's invaders! You bring this to serve us? Have you forgotten your ancestors, or are you deliberately driving the blade straight into our hearts?"
The banquet hall instantly fell silent. The other veterans stood up as well, their faces darkened with displeasure. "This is outrageous! This is an insult to us! Is this how the Woods Hotel treats veterans?"
Tina's face turned pale with fright, and tears fell immediately. She ran to Ray's side, gripping his arm. "Ray, I didn't mean to cause trouble. I just thought the wine was good. Please explain it to them."
Ray frowned but did not speak up in Tina's defense.
He stepped before the veterans and bowed. "Sorry, this was our lack of consideration. I sincerely apologize to all of you."
Tina did not expect Ray to say such things; her face grew even paler. "Ray! How can you say that? I'm only doing this for the hotel's sake!"
Ray ignored her and continued apologizing to the veterans, but they didn't accept it at all. "Is there any meaning to say sorry? You never respected history! We're leaving! We will never come back to this kind of history-abandoned hotel!"
At that moment, footsteps suddenly echoed at the entrance, and a group of men dressed in black suits entered.
The man at the forefront was tall and composed. He approached the veterans and bowed respectfully. "Gentlemen, I am George Edwards from the Edwards Hotel. I heard there was an incident here, so I came specially to escort you to the Edwards."
"We have prepared the banquet, all according to the tastes of the elders."
The veterans exchanged glances, and the anger on their faces somewhat subsided.
"John Edwards' grandson?" The one-armed veteran looked at George. "How is your grandfather?"
George nodded. "My grandpa is still fairly healthy. He often tells me about the days when he and you fought against the invaders."
The veteran smiled and patted George on the shoulder. "Fine, we will follow you."
George turned around and looked at me. "Ms. Tyler, I have heard your culinary skills are excellent. Would you be willing to accompany us to the Edwards Hotel and help manage tonight's banquet?"
I paused for a moment, then nodded: "I'm willing."
Ray looked at me, his eyes filled with surprise; Tina trembled with anger but couldn't utter a single word.
I followed George and the veterans out of the Woods Hotel. The evening breeze brushed my cheeks, carrying a slight chill.
I glanced back at the Woods Hotel's sign, silently repeating in my heart: Ray, Tina, this is just the beginning.
Sitting in the Edwards Hotel's kitchen, I looked at the ingredients before me and felt much more at ease.
George had the freshest ingredients sent in, along with several jars of homemade rice wine. Each jar was marked with the characters "Edwards," carrying a nostalgic, old-world charm.
"My. Tyler." George entered the kitchen, holding a recipe book. "This was my grandfather's favorite dish. Please take a look and see if you can prepare it."
I took the recipe; the pages were yellowed, with neatly handwritten characters—braised pork, sweet and sour fish, and a wild vegetable soup, all simple yet comforting dishes.
"No problem." I smiled and said, "I can make all these dishes, and I guarantee they will taste just like they did back then. By the way, call me Jessica is okay."
George nodded. "Then I'll trouble you. I'll stay in the front hall with the veterans. Call me anytime if you need anything."
I began to busy myself—chopping vegetables, simmering soup, stir-frying—each movement practiced and precise.
In my previous life, I worked as Head Chef at the Woods for five years; my culinary skills had long been perfected. Yet Ray and Tina always thought my dishes were too rustic, or not refined enough.
But today, these rustic dishes had become the most treasured flavors.
When the banquet began, I stood at the kitchen door, listening to the laughter coming from the front hall, feeling deeply satisfied.
The veterans were talking about resisting the invaders back in the day. George was nearby, listening attentively and occasionally asking a question or two—such a scene was far warmer than the high-end banquets at the Woods Hotel.
Suddenly, my phone rang; it was my assistant calling.
"My. Tyler, something has happened at the the Woods! Many customers are canceling their orders and saying they will never come to the the Woods again."
I was stunned for a moment, then understood—it must be the news about the veterans that had spread, and everyone was unwilling to come to a hotel like the the Woods's that disrespects history.
"Understood." I said calmly, "Is there anything else?"
The assistant paused, "The staff are all in uproar, accusing Ms. Miller of taking kickbacks before, and that the ingredients she purchased were all of poor quality. Now everyone wants to resign."
I laughed—Tina paid for this so early.
After hanging up,George came over and asked, "What's going on?"
"It's the Woods's clients are canceling orders, and the staff are creating unrest."I told him the truth.
George nodded. "It was expected. Companies that disrespect history will be eliminated sooner or later."
He looked at me and said, "Jessica, have you ever considered leaving the the Woods to work for the Edwards?"
I was stunned: "Mr. Edwards, are you serious?"
"Of course." George smiled and said, "I tasted the dishes you made tonight; the flavor is excellent. Moreover, you have a conscience and understand reverence. The Edwards needs a head chef like you."
"Regarding salary, I will pay you double what the Woods offers; in addition, I will give you shares."
A wave of emotion surged through my heart — in my previous life, I worked myself to exhaustion at the Woods but never received a single word of recognition. Now, George values me so highly.
"Thank you, Mr. Edwards." I nodded, "I am willing to join you."
The next morning, I went to the Woods to complete my resignation.
The moment I stepped into the hotel, I saw chaos everywhere—customers arguing at the front desk to cancel their orders, staff demanding their wages in the office.
Tina sat on the floor, her hair in wild disarray like a madwoman; Ray stood nearby, his face ashen.
When he saw me come in, his eyes lit up: "Jessica! You're back! Quickly, help me handle this!"
I looked at him, my heart utterly unmoved: "I'm here to resign. I have already accepted the Edwards's offer."
Ray was stunned: "What did you say? You're going to the Edwards? Jessica, you can't leave! The Woods can't do without you!"
"Whether the the Woods includes me or not is no longer my concern."
I picked up the resignation form. "I'm just here to tell you, let's get a divorce."
"You have already signed the property division agreement; Serena's custody is granted to me."
Ray's face instantly turned pale. "You planned this all along?"
"Yes."
I looked at him. "From the day you agreed to let Tina serve that bottle of red wine marked by the stains of invasion history, I knew it was over between us."
After completing the resignation procedure, as I stepped out of the the Woods estate, I saw George's car parked at the entrance.
He rolled down the car window: "Jessica, get in the car. I'll take you to the Edwards to get familiar with the place."
I nodded and got into the car.
As the car left the Woods Hotel, I saw through the rearview mirror that Ray stood at the doorway, looking like a disgraced, forsaken dog; Tina was still on the ground crying, her appearance disheveled.
At the Edwards, George showed me around the kitchen—the equipment here was far superior to that at the Woods Hotel, and the staff were very warm. Upon seeing me, they all smiled and greeted me: "Ms. Tyler, we have long heard your name. Please lead us from now on."
I smiled and nodded, feeling a warmth in my heart.
In the afternoon, I received a call from my lawyer: "Miss Jessica, Ray's assets have been frozen because he owes a significant amount to suppliers; also, the issue of Tina receiving kickbacks has now been officially investigated by the police."
I nodded. "Understood. Please assist me in processing the divorce as soon as possible."
"Very well, I will handle it promptly."
After hanging up, I gazed out at the sunlight through the window, feeling a profound calm—the pain of my past life was finally coming to an end. From this moment on, I will live well, for myself and for Serena.
The divorce proceedings went very smoothly.
With his assets frozen, Ray had no desire to contest custody and signed the papers quickly.
On the day I obtained the divorce certificate, I took Serena to the amusement park.
Seeing her joyful smile, I felt all the hardship had been worth it.
But Tina refused to let it rest.
One evening a week later, just after I left the Edwards for the day, several unknown men stopped me.
Dressed in black with menacing faces, they said, "So, are you Jessica? Come with us."
A chill ran through me: "Who are you?"
"Ms. Miller sent us. She has something to say to you."
They took me to an abandoned factory.
Tina stood on the rooftop, the wind blowing through her hair, her expression wild: "Jessica Tyler! Why did you ruin me? Why did you take everything from me?"
I looked at her: "You destroyed everything yourself. You disrespected history, took kickbacks, and pursued personal gain. That has nothing to do with me."
"Nothing to do with you?" Tina laughed, a grim, savage laugh. "If it weren't for you, how would I have become like this? Back then, Ray was supposed to marry me! You inserted yourself!"
"And do you really think Ray loves you? He only cares about your family's money! After your parents died, he began scheming for your inheritance, and I was just helping him!"
I froze—although I had long known Ray didn't love me, hearing those words still felt like being stabbed in the heart.
"You still don't know, do you?" Tina went on, "Your parents' car accident was no accident at all! It was arranged by Ray! He did it all for your inheritance!"
My heart tightened suddenly. "What did you say? Do you have evidence?"
"Evidence?" Tina smiled and said, "Of course I have it. Ray's phone still contained chat records with the killer a few days ago, but unfortunately, he has already deleted them."
"However, I know where the killer is. If you hand over all the assets under your name, I will tell you."
At that moment, Ray suddenly ran up, saying, "Tina! Don't be insane! The police are already here!"
Tina was stunned. "The police? You called the police?"
"Yes." Ray said, "I can't let you keep going down the wrong path. Jessica, I'm sorry. It was I who wronged you before. Can you forgive me?"
Tina looked at Ray and suddenly understood: "You called the police to arrest me just to save yourself? Ray! You coward! Do you think that will earn you Jessica's forgiveness? Dream on!"
Ray's face darkened. "I just don't want to keep making the wrong choices with you."
At that moment, the rooftop door was pushed open, and George entered with a group of police officers and veterans.
"Tina Miller, you are suspected of kidnapping and commercial fraud. Come with us now."
Tina looked at the police, her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground. "No! I don't want to go to jail! Ray, save me!"
Ray took a step back, avoiding her hand.
When the police took Tina away, she was still shouting, "Jessica! I won't let you off!"
I watched her retreating figure, feeling not a trace of emotion—good and evil will be repaid, and today's outcome was the choice she made herself.
George came up beside me and asked, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."I said, "Thank you, Mr. Edwards."
"No need to thank me." George said, "I only did what I was supposed to do."
"By the way, regarding your parents' car accident, I've already had someone look into it. I believe there will be results soon."
I nodded, overcome with a sudden surge of emotion.
The next day, I heard that Ray, having no money, was hired by the nursing home to work as a cleaner, responsible for sweeping the yard.
Someone saw him wearing a gray work uniform, holding a broom, looking utterly downtrodden.
I did not go to see him, nor did I think about him anymore—he no longer had any connection to me.
On the day Tina was sentenced, I was in the Edwards's kitchen developing new recipes.
George walked into the kitchen.
"Jessica, Tina was sentenced to ten years, and she has lost her sanity in prison."
I nodded. "I got it, thank you for telling me."
George looked at me. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." I said, "Right now, I just want to work hard and take good care of Serena."
Day by day, the business at the Edwards Hotel steadily improved. Many people came especially for my dishes. Several veterans often came to the restaurant as well, talking with me about those days of resisting the invaders.
I gradually came to understand the connection between the Edwards family and the veterans—George's grandfather had also been a war veteran during the war, serving in the same unit as several elderly men who now regularly visited.
They had fought side by side and shed blood together.
After he retired from the military, he opened the Edwards Hotel, brewing delicious rice wine with ancestral techniques.
Many veterans came here to drink and reminisce about the past.
George also passed down the ancestral brewing techniques to me.
He said, "This craft must not be lost; it must be carried on."
I learned earnestly, carefully attending to every step from selecting the rice to fermenting and then distilling.
Gradually, I too could brew fine rice wine.
I also combined traditional recipes with modern culinary methods, creating many new dishes—such as braised pork made with the Edwards' rice wine and salads featuring wild vegetables—all of which were well received.
George said I was very talented and would surely be able to carry forward the Edwards's cuisine.
Later, we decided to transform the Edwards Hotel into a cultural hotel themed around the war.
Many came here to dine, not only for the flavors but also to commemorate history.
On the hotel's opening day, many veterans arrived.
They looked at the photos on the wall, their eyes full of tears: "How quickly time passes. Of the brothers who fought together back then, only a few of us remain now."
George held his hand: "Sir, rest assured, we will ensure this history is passed down."
I read in the newspaper that Tina has become mentally deranged in prison.
The report said she often shouts loudly in prison, claiming to be the wife of the Woods and saying she wants to find Ray, looking very pitiful.
But I feel no sympathy at all—this was the path she chose herself, the price she pays for her disrespect of history and disregard for life.
Ray works as a janitor in a nursing home, and life is not easy for him.
Some say he is often bullied by the elderly and that the director has docked his wages.
Once, when I went to the nursing home to visit a veteran, I saw him from afar—he was wearing a gray uniform and shoveling snow, snowflakes falling on his head, his hair already white.
When he saw me, his eyes were filled with guilt, but he didn't dare to come over and speak.
I ignored him as well and turned away—some mistakes, once made, are made; no amount of remorse can ever make amends.
Many of the staff who previously worked for the the Woods regretted their choice; they came to me, hoping me can bring to the Edwards Hotel.
I did not agree—it's not out of grudge, but because I know that once someone loses their sense of respect and boundaries, they can never be trusted again.
Nevertheless, I gave them some money to help them get through this difficult time temporarily.
The social media also covered our situation, and many praised the Edwards Hotel, saying we respect history and carry forward culture.
Some even say that Tina and Ray deserved what happened to them.
More and more people are beginning to pay attention to history and the veterans, which makes me very happy.
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