Ducks Unlimited Banquet

I still remembered a night from my childhood. At midnight, my grandfather took me to what became the most unforgettable feast of my life. The host was Daniel Lee, the poorest man in the town. He didn't own a single farm animal and often struggled to put food on the table. Yet when his father passed away, he laid out ten full tables piled high with roasted lamb heads. My grandfather served as the town's funeral coordinator and came to oversee the service. My grandfather glanced at the tables, unable to hide his curiosity. “Where'd you get the money for all this? And those lamb heads don’t look cheap, either." Daniel smiled. "All you need to know is that only the finest lamb heads were served tonight."

I was the broke scholarship kid, stuck sharing a room with Sherry, the spoiled heiress. From day one, she was all fake smiles and "let's be besties." She'd take me out for fancy meals. She even introduced me to Kenneth—her rich childhood buddy. It was fine—until Kenneth and I started dating. That's when the claws came out. One day, she "accidentally" dumped hot soup all over herself and claimed I'd done it on purpose. Then she demanded I pay her back. I gave her every cent I had, but it wasn't enough. Next, she accused me of stealing her wallet. The school bought it. I got written up, everyone turned on me, and Kenneth? He dumped me with, "You're just an ugly duckling trying to be a swan." I couldn't fight back. Humiliated, alone, and dragged through online hate, I dropped out. Then I let the river take me. And then—I woke up. Back to the moment Sherry introduced me to Kenneth.

I was in the middle of a shift when my coworker, Denise Sutton, popped up out of nowhere and slapped me on the shoulder. "Next week is Gerald's birthday, and your family happens to run a seafood restaurant. So here's the plan — I'll chip in ninety-nine dollars, and we'll all go over to your place for a feast to celebrate." Denise counted off the menu on her fingers. "We need lobster and king crab, the fish has to be live-caught grouper, don't skimp on the appetizers, and stock up on beer and soda. Gerald's got gout, so go easy on the shellfish for him. Make sure everything's perfect — don't embarrass our department." She gave me a playful nudge, waggling her eyebrows. "Once Gerald's happy, he'll cut you a bonus worth a few thousand. Won't that make you happy?" "You get paid, you get noticed, and the boss ends up in a good mood. Amy, you'd better be properly grateful to me." I just stared at her, baffled. My family ran a breakfast counter that sold meat pies. Where exactly was the seafood supposed to come from? I turned Denise down flat. Denise just rolled her eyes and walked off. That night, a sign-up thread went out in the work group chat. "Gerald's birthday party is Saturday. I'm treating everyone to a seafood feast, all you can eat, and you can bring family. Reply if you're coming!" The chat erupted in cheers. In under ten minutes, more than fifty people had signed up. [My dad's never even had lobster. Guess he's finally getting cultured, thanks to Denise!] [My kid's obsessed with tuna. Get extra servings for her.] Denise agreed to everything without hesitation, dropped a location pin in the chat, and sent me ninety-nine dollars. Denise: [Amy, hold onto the money. The ingredients better be fresh — don't you dare shortchange your own coworkers.] I looked at the pinned location and smiled. It was the upscale seafood restaurant next door to my family's shop — owned by a man who'd gone straight a few years back after a rougher life, with tattoos running all the way up to his chin. The last person who'd tried to dine and dash there still hadn't gotten out of bed.

While I was on vacation with my parents, we stood on the deck overlooking the sea when my father suddenly asked, "Mother duck says quack, quack, quack, quack. But?" I was about to reply, "Only four little ducks came back," when he kicked me into the water. "What's taking you so long to finish a song? Are you cognitively arrested or what?" he barked. Cold water filled my lungs like lead as I bobbed in the waves. "Help me, Dad! I can't swim!" My mother told the captain to steer the superyacht away instead. "Then stay in the water a little longer. Self-preservation may finally make you learn to swim. That's what you need. Real grit and adversity to unlock your potential." I flailed my arms and fought to stay afloat, but panic took over. My right leg cramped and refused to move. I could only watch the superyacht fade into the horizon. I drifted for a while before I could catch up with my parents' superyacht. I wished I could tell them how many ducks came back, but they would never hear my voice again.

Before the Visconti family's truce banquet began, only two seats remained empty at the long table. One was at the far end. The other was to the left of Lucas Visconti, the man I'd married under contract. Three months earlier, to settle a blood debt hanging over my father, I'd signed a marriage contract and become the secret wife of the youngest Mafia boss in New York. According to the seating chart approved and sealed by both families' consiglieri, Sophia Vitali, their negotiator, was supposed to sit at the far end. The list hadn't been changed, but the place cards on the table had been swapped. I had just started toward Lucas when he looked up. "Sophia, take this seat." The banquet hall fell silent. Enzo, the Vitali family's consigliere, stiffened. "Is this a gesture of goodwill, or are we to understand that Sophia is now under your personal protection?" If Sophia said yes, she would be admitting that she'd aligned herself with a rival family behind the Vitalis' backs. If she denied it, Lucas would have to remove her from the table. Adrian, Lucas's consigliere, spoke under his breath. "Boss, the official seating chart hasn't been amended. We can still fix this." But Lucas overruled the objections. Sophia's brother Dominic had taken a bullet for Lucas six years ago and died of his wounds three days later. "I approved the change. "She's here for the negotiations. I take full responsibility." Enzo demanded that the incident be entered into the truce minutes and reserved the right to suspend the talks. Lucas didn't back down. Throughout dinner, he fielded every toast meant for Sophia, using the negotiations as his excuse. When a waiter knocked over a champagne flute and broken glass sliced my wrist, he didn't even turn around. I slipped off the obsidian ring reserved for the Visconti inner circle and set it on the table.

Dominic Langdon, a gang boss, is about to host his birthday banquet soon. He specifically tells everyone that he wants bluefin tuna and premium abalone as the grandest dish in his banquet. That seafood comes to a total of 80 thousand dollars. But my uncle, Steve Cutterson, gives me 800 dollars and tells me to carry out the task. I head toward the garbage dump of the farmers' market immediately. Soon, I return with a cartload of canned sardines and crayfish. After calculating the transportation costs, it comes to a total of 800 dollars. When the cheap-looking seafood is served, Dominic is so pissed that he flips the table on the spot. "How dare you pocket my money! You must have a death wish!" Steve quickly makes me the scapegoat. "Mr. Langdon, Caleb is the one who bought the seafood! He must have embezzled your money! Caleb, you'd better grovel to Mr. Langdon and pay him back right now!" I just show everyone the magnified version of the transfer record of 800 dollars with a stony expression. "Take a good look, Uncle Steve. Do you really think you can afford bluefin tuna with just 800 dollars? Did Mr. Langdon give you the money purely out of charity purposes?"