What Does 'The Teapot Calling The Kettle Black' Mean?

As I was about to leave my brother’s restaurant, the female manager stopped me. "Miss, excuse me, but you haven’t paid your bill." I looked at the unfamiliar face and thought that she was probably new and didn’t recognize me, so I explained politely, "Just put it on the owner’s tab. He knows me." The manager shot me a disdainful look. "Miss, this is a Michelin three-star restaurant. We don’t let just anyone run up a tab." She handed me a printed bill. I glanced at it. Fifty thousand dollars for one meal. Three thousand for tableware maintenance, five thousand for exclusive air purification, ten thousand for a VIP mood-calming service fee, and a bunch of other ridiculous charges. I didn’t even know my brother’s place was such a scam. I couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. "I’m the owner’s sister. If there’s a problem, tell him to talk to me at home." But she just wouldn’t drop it. "If you can’t afford it, stop acting like you can. And don’t act like you know Mr. White, either." I fired off a quick text to my secretary. 【Tell my brother to either fire this manager or I’m pulling my investment.】

Everyone said I was too possessive when it came to my girlfriend, Amanda Crane. When Amanda first started taking photos of her childhood friend, Ian Lewis, I ripped apart all the rolls of film. When she helped him fix his computer, I called her 100 times in an hour. And when he called her from the airport, asking her to pick him up because the rain made it impossible to get a cab, I held a knife to my throat. I told her I'd take my own life if she went to him. Fed up, Amanda shipped me off to a psychiatric hospital that same night. When I got out, I vanished. Amanda was certain I was hiding somewhere, spying on her and Ian, but I never showed up—until the celebration party for a business project three years later. Ian put his arm around Amanda and swirled the wine glass he was holding. He shot me a taunting look, remarking, "You used to get so jealous, Steven. I'm sure you no longer mind if Mandy and I drink from the same glass now, right?" He waited for me to go berserk the way I used to three years ago, but I simply moved the bottle of wine closer to them. "I don't mind at all, of course. Have as many glasses as you want. It's great to see that your relationship has been progressing so well." Amanda paused. Her eyes started to redden. She stared fixedly at me and questioned, "Why don't you feel jealous anymore, Steven?"

I was the company's marketing director, but my salary had always been only sixteen hundred dollars. One day, Timmy Sunderland from finance accidentally sent the payroll spreadsheet to me by mistake. On it, I saw the lines: Technical Director–10,000 dollars. Marketing Assistant–5,600 dollars. Receptionist–2,000 dollars. It also clearly stated that my salary was ten thousand, but most of it had been deducted and given to Timmy! Only then did I realize that after a decade of service at this company, they still treated me worse than everyone else. I rushed into the office belonging to my boss, Jessica White. "I want an explanation." She said to me, "This is a business decision, and I'm not at liberty to explain anything to you. Haven't you always been the one who understood me the best?" Because I had feelings for Jessica, I gave in. A few days later, when the holiday arrived, I did not rest. I went out to negotiate an investment of five million for the company. I treated the client to dinner and drank with him until I suffered internal bleeding. When I took the receipt of 2,000 dollars to Timmy for reimbursement, he transferred only 100 dollars to me and even said I was just trying to take advantage of the company. Jessica also scolded me to my face. "Only incapable people need to spend that much on clients. Timmy's right, you're just trying to take advantage of the company." This time, I decided not to endure it any longer. In anger, I quit and joined another company. The first project that I was put in charge of was worth over ten million, and Jessica's company was the investment target…

Inside the mediation room at the police station, my passenger looked disheveled with messy hair and rumpled clothes. She cried as she complained to the police officer, “Sir, it’s him! The Grab driver had bad intentions! He even tried to harass me! “People like him should be put in jail! And I want compensation for the emotional distress he caused me!” Right after she finished speaking, she slumped down on the floor and threw a tantrum. I could not believe someone could be this shameless. All I did was tell her not to smoke in the car, and she falsely accused me of harassing her. On top of it, I was a woman too! It was just that I usually dressed less femininely. How could I possibly have harassed her?

At a gathering, I noticed that Jade Shaw, the woman that my best friend, Michael Ronan, had a crush on, slipped something into his drink. When she walked over and offered him the glass, I deliberately knocked it over, spilling the drugged wine and saving his life. She stormed off in anger. The very next day, she announced her engagement to someone else. Michael came to me in a rage, convinced that I had ruined things out of jealousy. "Taylor, if it weren't for your meddling, I would've already slept with her! She would've engaged with me instead! You just can't stand seeing me happy! You destroyed my love life! You'll pay for it with your life!" He shoved me off a high building. I died instantly. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of the gathering. Michael was staring at Jade with a lovestruck expression. Then, he glared at me, warning me not to interfere. So, he had been reborn too. But what he didn't know was that the woman that he adored had always been disgusted by his persistence. What she put in the drink wasn't some aphrodisiac. It was something lethal that could kill him.

When my cousin, Rita Pike, brings her boyfriend, Benny Booker, home to meet her parents, I get labelled as a freeloader for some reason. As soon as Benny steps through the front door, he shoots me a disdainful glance. "You're the cousin who refuses to move out of my girlfriend's villa, right?" I just stare at him in confusion. Yes, I do live in this villa. But my parents have left this property to me as a part of my assets. My name is the one printed on the property deed. Heck, I'm the one who told my butler to give Rita a room to stay here! Why is it that I'm painted as the poor relative who refuses to move out now that she's dating another man?