500,000 for dinner at my brother's restaurant. I'm crazy.

I was about to leave the upscale restaurant Julian owned when the manager stopped me. “Excuse me, ma’am, you haven’t paid your bill.”

I looked at the unfamiliar face, figuring she was new and didn’t recognize me. So, I politely explained, “Just put it on Julian’s tab. He knows.”

The female manager swept a disdainful glance over me. “Ma’am, our restaurant is a Michelin three-star. We’ve never had a policy of charging to an account.”

She finished speaking, then handed me a printed bill.

I glanced down, and my eyes widened. A single meal for half a million dollars.

Cutlery Gleam Maintenance Fee: Thirty thousand.

Exclusive Air Purification Fee: Fifty thousand.

VIP Serenity Service Fee: One hundred thousand.

And a bunch of other ridiculous charges.

I had no idea my brother was running such a rip-off joint. I was so furious, I actually laughed. “I’m Stella Cross, Mr. Cross’s sister. Tell him to come home and talk to me if there’s a problem.”

But she wouldn’t back down. “Can’t afford it, huh? Don’t pretend you’re someone important, trying to mooch off Mr. Cross.”

I immediately texted my assistant: *Tell Julian. Either fire this woman, or I’m pulling all my investments.*

1

“Ma’am, don’t waste everyone’s time. Just pay the bill.”

Her tone was utterly certain, cutting, as if she’d already branded me as a vain gold-digger trying to skip out on the bill.

Several curious glances from other patrons were already turning our way.

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

However, only a cold busy signal answered, and repeated attempts yielded the same result.

What the hell is that kid up to on a weekday?

I put down my phone and faced the aggressive woman, enunciating each word carefully.

“I’ll say it again. My name is Stella Cross. I am your boss, Julian Cross’s, older sister.”

“His phone is unreachable right now, but you can check his company account. My picture and information are linked to it.”

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

But when the female manager heard my name, instead of verifying anything, she burst into a sharp, grating laugh.

She cackled, shaking with malicious glee, drawing even more attention.

Then, she abruptly leaned in close to me, lowering her voice to a volume only we two could hear.

“Still pretending? I’ve seen that face of yours in my husband Julian’s Ins feed countless times!”

“You shameless hussy, secretly seducing my man!”

“Now you have the audacity to waltz into his restaurant and try to charge everything to his account? Do you have no shame at all?”

I froze for a second, then glanced at her name tag—Tiffany Reed. An overwhelming sense of exasperation washed over me.

Julian’s girlfriend, the one he’d been keeping under wraps, not even a single picture he’d bothered to show me.

It turned out to be this foolish, venomous woman in front of me.

How could his taste be *this* bad?

...