Chapter 2

“Sir, stop wasting everyone’s time. Just pay.”

His tone was smug and cutting, as if he’d already labeled me a scoundrel trying to climb the ladder on a woman's coattails.

Several curious glances were already turning my way.

I frowned, not wanting to waste time on such a ridiculous matter. I pulled out my phone and dialed my sister’s number directly.

But all I got was a cold busy signal. I tried again, same result.

It's a weekday, what's that girl up to?

I put down my phone and looked straight at the aggressive man, repeating each word clearly:

“I’ll say it again. My name is Adrian Hayes, and I am the biological brother of your boss, Serena Hayes.”

“Her phone isn’t answering right now. You can check her card; my photo and information are linked to it.”

I thought this was the most direct and effective way to solve the problem.

But when the male manager heard my name, instead of verifying it, he burst into a loud, exaggerated, and grating laugh.

He laughed so hard he almost doubled over, drawing even more attention.

Then, he suddenly leaned in close, lowering his voice to a whisper only we could hear:

“Still pretending? I’ve seen your face in Serena’s photo album a thousand times!”

“You’re that persistent creep who always tries to interfere with our lives!”

“And now you have the nerve to show up at her restaurant and put your tab on her? Who do you think you are?”

I froze for a second, then glanced at his name tag – Brendon Miller. An overwhelming sense of exasperation washed over me.

Serena’s boyfriend, the one she’d been so secretive about, the one she wouldn't even let me see a single photo of… it turned out to be this foolish, venomous man right in front of me.

How could her taste be this bad?

It dawned on me then: today’s half-million-dollar "exorbitant bill" wasn't a misunderstanding at all. It was a premeditated humiliation.

Before I could even speak, he’d completely lost his patience.

“If this gentleman insists on dining and dashing, we’ll have to restrain him until the police arrive!”

He waved his hand, and two burly security guards, who had been standing nearby, immediately stepped forward.

They were two well-trained strongmen. Two fists against four hands, my resistance was quickly subdued, and my arms were twisted tightly behind my back.

I struggled violently but couldn't break free from their professional hold.

They ignored my furious gaze and the frightened looks of the other guests, roughly dragging me towards the back kitchen.

Then, I was violently shoved into the storeroom in the back, reeking of disinfectant and stale, greasy slop.

The door slammed shut, cutting off all light and sound from outside.