Hot Ice Cream. I'm the Boss's Wife

"Ugh! What kind of trash mall is this? No signal at all!" a woman yelled. She was so loud that her voice seemed to rattle the storefront. Then, she chucked her phone across the floor. It almost hit a customer who clearly didn't sign up for this.

People started whispering right away.

"Is she... okay?"

"Poor cashier. Retail workers really go through hell just for their paychecks."

Their sympathy only made her scowl harder.

Then, she abruptly snatched the ice cream from my hand and smashed it across her own face.

Cold white cream dripped down her cheeks as she launched into a full meltdown. "I paid five bucks for ice cream, but the cashier said I didn't spend enough and threw it at me! I told her I couldn't finish it! Is this how society treats innocent pregnant women?"

I just stood there, stunned.

She flipped the entire story in two seconds flat.

And of course, it was 7 p.m. It was the busiest time of the day. A crowd formed around us instantly.

"Oh wow, this is customer service now? Gen Z workers are really wilding out."

"Report her! Make sure she gets punished!"

"Record her! Put it online and help her go viral!"

Her confidence skyrocketed with every comment. She even added shaky breaths and little sniffles.

"I'm Brittany Collin, the owner's wife. I'm here to check on the shop, and this is how she speaks to me. I'm pregnant. I just wanted some ice cream. Why am I suddenly the bad guy?"

I moved behind the counter, kept my expression flat, and took out my phone. 'Walked past your store, and a pregnant woman outside claimed she's the owner's wife. Explain?'

I even dropped a location pin.

Nathan Blake sent back a video right away. He looked annoyed and oddly emotional. 'I'm in Cindergate for work, trying to expand our brand. That mall has like 50 dessert shops—20 just on that floor. She's obviously confused. And wow... You doubted me? That stings.'

He flipped the camera and showed his hotel room from every angle.

I let out a slow breath.

Nathan always sent updates, and I usually trusted him.

Still, she was pregnant. Hormones could make anyone act out, and let's be real—ordering "hot ice cream" wasn't a great sign.

I tried again, gentler. "Ms. Collin, I think you've got the wrong shop. Maybe you should head home and get some rest?"

My sentence barely finished when… a fiery sting suddenly exploded across my cheek.

"I know my husband's store when I see it!" she snapped. "Don't you dare lie to me! I know exactly what you're doing!"

My hands trembled with anger. I was seconds away from ditching professionalism when she suddenly gasped, grabbed her stomach, and fell backward.

"Aah! My stomach! It hurts!"

Chaos broke out.

"Help her!"

"Call an ambulance! She's pregnant!"

"That cashier must've hit her! What kind of monster hurts a pregnant woman?"

Their voices blurred.

I couldn't focus.

Then, I noticed her shoes.

Silver heels. Rhinestones. Limited edition.

The same pair I'd seen in my boyfriend's online shopping cart two weeks ago.