My Sister's Restaurant Nightmare: Her Waiter Boyfriend's $500,000 Scam

My sister’s restaurant. I was just about to leave when the manager called out, “Sir, you haven’t paid your bill yet.”

I looked at the unfamiliar face, thinking he must be new and didn't recognize me. So, I politely explained,

“Just put it on your boss’s tab. She knows about it.”

The male manager gave me a dismissive glance. “Sir, this is a three-Michelin-star restaurant. We never allow tabs.”

He finished speaking, then handed me a printed bill.

I glanced down at it. A single meal, half a million dollars.

Glow-up cutlery maintenance fee: $30,000.

Exclusive air purification fee: $50,000.

VIP emotional appeasement service fee: $100,000.

And a bunch of other ridiculous charges.

I had no idea my sister ran such a rip-off joint. I let out a sarcastic laugh. “I’m Adrian Hayes, Ms. Hayes’s brother. If there’s an issue, she can come home and talk to me.”

But he wouldn’t back down. “If you can’t afford it, just say so. Don’t try to piggyback on Ms. Hayes’s name. I’ve seen plenty of pretty boys trying to sponge off women.”

I texted my assistant: *Tell my sister: either fire this guy, or I’m pulling all my investments.*

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“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.

Bef...