I almost laughed at the absurdity of these people.

Sunset Joy was something I had set up with my own money after my retirement.

This old neighborhood had many empty-nesters. Their children were busy, and a lot of the elderly struggled to get a decent meal.

I paid to rent this space and hired a cook and staff because I wanted them to have hot, decent meals. After considering the elderly residents' financial situation, I priced the meals at a dollar each.

The dollar didn't even cover the utilities, let alone the cost of ingredients and labor. For every meal, I had personally subsidized at least 20 dollars out of my own pocket.

Over the past year, while running this kitchen, I had already put in nearly 400 thousand dollars of my own money.

They didn't know any of this. All they knew was that the one-dollar meals no longer suited their tastes.

I turned off the video and looked at Mr. Fletcher.

"So, what exactly do you want?" I asked.

"Our demands are very simple!" Mr. Fletcher cleared his throat, acting like he was the voice of the people.

"First, improve the food! Stop trying to pass off fatty meat to us. We want seafood and lean meat!

"Second, transparency! How many subsidies from the government are you actually getting? How much does each meal cost? You need to disclose everything! You can't have us eating this without knowing the truth!"

An old woman next to him quickly added, "That's right! And variety too! You need to learn from those fancy restaurants—stop repeating the same dishes every day!

"It would be even better if you offered some afternoon tea, fruit, and the like."

Another old man mentioned something even more outrageous.

"I've seen some senior living communities offer massage and foot care services too. Ms. Lawson, if you're really serious about charity, why not go all the way?"

I felt nothing but disgust as I listened to these ridiculous demands.

These people had taken my goodwill for granted. They had turned my generosity into leverage they could use against me.

Instead of addressing their demands, I asked Mr. Fletcher a question.

"Mr. Fletcher, is Maisy your granddaughter?"

"Yes, she is!" Mr. Fletcher puffed up with pride. "My granddaughter is successful and has talent! Unlike some people who only make money the shady way."

His words were pointed, drawing a round of snickering agreement from those around him.

I nodded. "Okay. I understand."

I took a deep breath and turned to Mr. Hewitt, who was standing beside me. "Mr. Hewitt, please notify all the elderly in the neighborhood who have meal cards at the kitchen to gather in the hall at noon tomorrow.

"I will give everyone a clear answer then."

Mr. Hewitt froze for a moment. Then, seeing the unamused expression on my face, he quickly nodded. "Alright. I'll go notify them right away."

Mr. Fletcher grinned smugly when he saw that I had "backed down".

"That's more like it! Ms. Lawson, a smart woman knows when to adapt. Don't worry. If you do as we say, I'll have my granddaughter post another video praising you to help restore your reputation."

With that, he clasped his hands behind his back and walked away, like a triumphant general leading his people.

I stood there, watching their retreating figures and feeling my blood run cold.

I remembered when the kitchen first opened—how the elderly would hold my hand with tears in their eyes and thank me repeatedly.

I recalled Chef Lewis Galvan, who came in at five every morning to start preparing food and ensure everything was tender and well-seasoned.

I remembered how I stayed here every day, overseeing purchasing and sanitation to make sure there were no mistakes.

It turned out that giving your all didn't mean anything to some people. It could even be used as a weapon for them to bite the hand that fed them.

I laughed in self-deprecation. I was too naive.

I thought I was doing something good, but to them, I was just a "sucker" they could take advantage of whenever they wanted.

I went back to my office and closed the door.

Outside the window, the sunset was a brilliant red, matching the name of the community kitchen—Sunset Joy.

When I first chose that name, it was in hopes that the elderly could have a little more joy in their sunset years.

Now, looking back, it felt like bitter irony.

I took out my phone and dialed a number.

"Hello, is this James Knight? It's Wendy Lawson. Do you still have the proposal for the project you mentioned last time—the one converting the neighborhood's retail space into a card room?

"Yes, send it to me. I need it right away."

…

The next day at noon, the community kitchen's dining hall was packed. Nearly a hundred elderly people filled the small space to the brim.

Every face was filled with expectation and excitement.

Mr. Fletcher stood at the center, surrounded by a crowd, and was talking loudly. "Everyone, relax! Once my granddaughter posted that video, she got scared! We're definitely getting answers today! If she doesn't agree to our demands, we'll keep making noise!"

"Yeah! Make her give back the subsidies!"

"We have to have seafood! I haven't had shrimp in so long!"

The whispers and muffled laughter mixed together, as though it were a victory celebration waiting to begin.

Maisy Fletcher had also come. She wore a stylish dress and perfect makeup, standing out clearly among the group of elderly people in their plain clothes.

She held her phone, live-streaming and smiling charmingly for the camera.

"Folks, I'm here at the scene right now. You guys see this? All these seniors are here, waiting for the greedy owner to explain herself.

"The wheels of justice turn slowly, but they never stop. Today, we're going to make sure these elderly people get what they deserve!"

Mr. Fletcher, standing next to her, immediately leaned into the camera and waved at the screen with a flushed, excited face.

I pushed open the door and walked into the hall.

In an instant, all the noise stopped, and hundreds of eyes turned to me in unison. Some were filled with curiosity, others with scrutiny, and others with smugness and disdain.

I ignored their stares and walked straight to the small makeshift platform at the front.

There was no microphone, so I raised my voice to address the crowd.

"Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend today's meeting."

My opening remark drew a low ripple of laughter from the audience.

"First, regarding the video you saw online about the kitchen's food and pricing…"

I directed my gaze directly toward Maisy in the crowd as I spoke. She looked me right in the eye without any fear, even wearing a slight, provocative smile.

"The video mentioned that the kitchen charges a dollar per meal and serves dishes like braised pork ribs and collard greens. All of that is true."

As soon as I finished speaking, the crowd erupted.

"See! She admitted it!"

"It's slop indeed!"

Mr. Fletcher immediately seized the opportunity and loudly questioned, "Ms. Lawson, since you've admitted to it, what do you plan to do? Have you considered our demands?"

Maisy also turned her phone camera toward me and shouted, clearly trying to stir up more trouble, "Everyone, look! The owner is here! Let's see what she has to say!"

In an instant, the comment section started scrolling rapidly.

"Here we go! The big showdown!"

"The owner looks pretty rich. Why is she so stingy?"

"She's probably going to apologize and pay up, right? The public pressure is huge."

As I looked at the twisted faces in the crowd, the last of my sympathy for them completely vanished.

I picked up a document from the table and said, "Regarding your demands for better food, more variety, and extra services—after careful consideration…"

Everyone held their breath and craned their necks. The smiles on Mr. Fletcher's and Maisy's faces showed they thought they had already won.

"I've decided that…"

I paused, slowly sweeping my gaze across every expectant face, then said, "From today onward, the Sunset Joy Community Kitchen is officially closed."

"What?"

"C-Closed?"

"Did I hear that right?"

The entire hall erupted as if a bomb had gone off, and the crowd was in an uproar instantly.

Everyone was stunned. The smiles on their faces froze, replaced by bewilderment and disbelief.

"Ms. Lawson! What do you mean by that?" Mr. Fletcher was the first to react.

His face turned beet-red as he pointed at me and roared, "What gives you the right to close the kitchen? We haven't agreed to this!

"This is revenge! You must be feeling guilty!"

Maisy also panicked and shouted into her phone, "Guys! She's closing down and running away! We exposed this greedy owner, and now she's trying to escape!"

I observed them coldly, as if I were watching a ridiculous farce.

"Mr. Fletcher, I paid for everything for this kitchen myself—from the lease and renovations to the supplies, payroll, and utilities.

"It doesn't belong to the neighborhood, nor does it belong to the government. It belongs to me, and me alone.

"Now, I've decided I don't want to run this place anymore, and I'm closing it down. Tell me, whose permission do I need for that?"

My words were like a bucket of ice water thrown over everyone's heads.

Mr. Fletcher was momentarily speechless. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

That was right. The kitchen was privately owned. If I didn't want to run it anymore, no one could do a thing about it.

"As for this space…" I held up a document. "I've already signed a contract with a new partner.

"It will soon be renovated and converted into a community card room. Once the new place is open, you're all more than welcome to pay the entry fee and use it."

A card room? And they'd have to pay? This was even more unacceptable to the elderly folks than closing the kitchen!

An elderly woman rushed to the front and shouted emotionally, "You… You can't do this! If the kitchen closes, what are we supposed to eat?"

"Yeah! We're all used to eating here! You can't just close it like that!"

"Ms. Lawson, we're sorry! We don't need the seafood, okay? Please don't shut down!"

Panic began to spread. The crowd, which had been so smug just moments ago, was now in chaos.

Cries for mercy, complaints, and accusations began to rise from all sides.

In Maisy's livestream, the comments also shifted direction.

"Damn! This owner is a total savage! She really just shut it down like that!"

"Wait, are these old folks crazy? They're complaining about a one-dollar meal?"

"I'm starting to understand why the owner is shutting it down. This is a textbook case of biting the hand that feeds you."

"Miss, I think you just messed up big time…"

Seeing the comments turn against her, Maisy's face went from flushed to ashen. She scrambled to shut down the livestream.

She turned to me and shouted with hollow bravado, "Don't think that shutting this place down will make this go away! We aren't done with you and that subsidy fraud! I'm going to report you right now!"

"Report me?" I laughed like I had just heard a huge joke.

Just then, a commotion arose at the entrance. Two men in uniform, looking very serious, walked in behind Mr. Hewitt.

One of them held a folder and swept his gaze across the room. "Excuse me. Which one of you is Wendy Lawson, the owner of Sunset Joy Community Kitchen?"

Mr. Fletcher's and Maisy's eyes lit up. Thinking the authorities they had called had finally arrived, they rushed over to meet them.

"Officers, you're finally here! That's her! That's the greedy owner!" Mr. Fletcher pointed a finger at me and launched into a tirade of accusations. "She's been cutting corners and serving us slop while pocketing government subsidies! You need to arrest her right now!"