Chapter 3

My employees' wages were still sitting in the business account. How was I supposed to access it now that my restaurant was shut down?"

I took a step back. "No, I can't go with you! I still have more than 20 reservations on the books. My suppliers will be here to collect payment the day after tomorrow, and I haven't paid my employees their wages for this month yet!" I rambled. "I seriously didn't break the law!"

Yet, two cops grabbed me by the shoulders and pinned me in place. My arms were twisted behind my back, and the pain made me gasp. "Please cooperate with us, Peter. We're just following protocol."

I thrashed wildly against their grip, but my arms were handcuffed, the cold metal digging painfully into my wrists.

I looked up and noticed a crowd of onlookers had gathered outside, gawking and pointing fingers at me.

"Look, he's still resisting. He definitely has a guilty conscience!"

"I used to think he was an honest person. Now, I know you really can't judge a book by its cover."

"He'll be sentenced for at least five years for selling endangered fish, right? Serves him right!"

I was frog-marched toward the police cruiser.

When I walked past the street across from my restaurant, I spotted Brandon standing in front of a bubble tea shop, holding up his phone and filming me. The corners of his lips were curled into a smirk, and he even made a throat-slitting gesture at me.

I was so furious that my eyes almost popped out of their sockets. If I hadn't been restrained, I would have charged over and torn his face apart.

…

When I arrived at the police station, I was taken into the interrogation room. The overhead light was so blinding that I could barely keep my eyes open.

The officers across from me flipped through the documents in their hands. "Fess up, Peter. Where did you really get these fish?"

"I've told you countless times already. They're farm-raised hybrid sturgeon delivered to me by Justin! All my permits are in order. In fact, you can look into Justin's fish farm!" I screamed until my throat was raw.

The officer across from me knocked on the table. "We have looked into it. Justin's farm was actually ordered to suspend operations for rectification due to fire safety violations half a month ago. You claim you received the shipment from him, yet your invoice is dated just three days ago. How do you explain that?"

My mind spun. Justin did tell me a few days ago that he needed to make some fire safety adjustments. He said this batch was transferred from another supplier in the industry and that all the paperwork was in order, so I didn't think much of it.

I parted my lips and was about to explain when the officer beat me to it. "The video has gone viral. It's been viewed millions of times, and the damage it's caused is severe. If you refuse to give us an explanation, then once the inspection results come out, even if your fish turns out to be farm-raised hybrid sturgeon, you can kiss your restaurant goodbye."

He paused for a moment before looking up at me. "Oh, by the way, your wife is here with your daughter."

The iron door was pushed open, and my wife, Grace Ortiz, stood at the entrance with Flora in her arms.

Flora was clutching the small dinosaur plushie that I had bought for her yesterday.

The moment she spotted me, she burst into tears. "Daddy… Daddy, what happened to you?" Her little face was flushed crimson from crying, and her voice pierced my heart like a needle.

Grace's eyes were red too, and her lips trembled so much that she could barely make a sound. "Peter, can't you just admit you were wrong? The regulatory officers told me that as long as you release an apology statement, admit that you failed to properly check the goods when you purchased them, and pay a 200-thousand-dollar fine, we can still fight for a lighter penalty.

"If you don't, our restaurant will be shut down, you'll have a criminal record, and Flora's future schooling will be affected! What are we supposed to do then?"

Looking at Flora, who was bawling her eyes out, and Grace, whose face was streaked with tears, all the strength I'd been holding on to suddenly drained away. It dawned on me that Brandon had never been afraid of the evidence I had against him.

He had calculated everything. He had calculated the rate at which public opinion would escalate, how the regulators would prioritize appeasing the netizens over finding the truth, how a small business owner like me couldn't afford to wait 15 days for the inspection results, and how I would crumble the moment I saw my wife and child in tears. He understood this entire game far too well.

Gazing at Flora, who was crying so hard that she had started hiccupping, I felt my Adam's apple ache as I swallowed hard. Ultimately, I nodded and rasped, "Fine. I'll apologize and pay the fine."

The officer across from me breathed a sigh of relief.

I looked up at him. "But I have one condition. You have to follow the official verification process. Find an authoritative third-party organization to conduct the inspection and have the entire process notarized. I want the final report to state clearly whether these are Cerulean sturgeon or farm-raised hybrid sturgeon."