**Chapter 48: Plunder All** With an air of unruffled composure, Janet set her knife and fork down on the table, her gaze locking onto the woman before her—a figure draped in ostentatious makeup. Jocelyn, with her theatrics, aimed to tarnish Janet's reputation in front of the high-society crowd that filled the upscale restaurant. Yet, Janet saw through the facade; Jocelyn was a fool, clad in luxury—the Chanel dress hugging her curves, the Hermes handbag perched at her side, and a Dior necklace glimmering against her neck. How dare she preach about frugality, Janet thought, when adorned in such opulence? "Let’s be clear, Jocelyn," Janet replied, her tone even and calm, as if she were breathing life into each word. "I’m only asking for what you owe me. Isn't it natural for one to settle their debts?" And in striking contrast to her poised demeanor, tears streamed down Jocelyn’s cheeks, a melodramatic display that only emphasized her desperate situation. "Mom and Dad always treated you well! Is this how you repay their kindness? They can hardly afford to spare anything right now! We are family! How can you be so cruel?" Her voice rose in pitch, echoing the anguish of a daughter caught in turmoil. In a moment of impulsivity fueled by emotion, Jocelyn yanked off her necklace, casting it at Janet with an anguished cry. "We genuinely don’t have anything! This necklace has value—take it as part of our payment! Just stop threatening our parents!" This act was her plea—painting herself as the impoverished daughter forced into a corner, while Janet stood unjustly as the cold-hearted creditor, seemingly devoid of gratitude for her family. Janet's eyes narrowed, but her resolve did not waver as she accepted the necklace, her finger lightly tracing its contours. Glancing at Jocelyn's Hermes handbag, that coveted piece of luxury that spoke of status and privilege, she continued, her voice smooth, "I believe that Chanel dress has some worth as well... and what about that exquisite Hermes handbag? Is that a limited edition? How about this: you can keep your clothes, but I will take the bag as a portion of what you owe." Jocelyn's tears dried up momentarily, replaced by a look of horror. The Birkin was her pride, her latest trophy that she had yearned for years to possess. Even used, it had cost her an arm and a leg. How could she simply relinquish it to Janet? "They're fakes! Worthless!" Jocelyn retorted hastily, her hands reflexively clutching her bag closer. "You should really be saving money instead of dining at these fancy restaurants on someone else's tab!" Janet crossed her arms, surveying the hushed audience around them. "Do you truly think everyone here is naive? This is a high-end establishment, Jocelyn. The clientele knows the difference between counterfeit and the authentic pieces. Even if you insist your bag is fake, I can still take it—you know, it’s still got its value. Hand it over!" Panic clawed at Jocelyn's insides. The eyes of the diners bore down on her, and whispers floated through the air like spectres. She had anticipated pulling one over on Janet by invoking sympathy; she hadn’t foreseen Janet’s fierce audacity, completely unconcerned with public perception. Once docile and quiet, Janet had undergone a remarkable transformation—was it marriage that had ignited this change? Heart heavy, Jocelyn reluctantly placed her precious Hermes Birkin on the table, feeling as though she were relinquishing a piece of herself. She pried her wallet, phone, and cosmetics from the bag, tossing them toward Janet as if throwing away her last remnant of pride. "There! Is that satisfactory for you?" "Hold on, let’s take a look at what’s in that wallet of yours," Janet replied, a glimmer of mockery dancing in her eyes. She was well aware of Jocelyn’s penchant for carrying large sums of cash. "Don’t push your luck!" Jocelyn hissed, her fists clenched, a deathly glare sharpening her features. Janet shrugged, amusement dancing on her lips. "But you said you’re broke, right? So it seems reasonable to pay off your debts with your belongings. Besides, with all your talk about struggling financially, shouldn’t your wallet be empty? Why are you so tense?" The tension wrapped around them like a vice. The game of wit danced precariously on the edge, and Janet delivered one final jab, "You wouldn’t want to mess with your credit record now, would you?" The onlookers watched, enraptured by this escalating confrontation, each moment ripe with the electric thrill of familial betrayal and the quest for dignity.