I kept my eyes on Alberta, but my words were for him.

"Your hidden menu. I want one of everything."

"And two bottles of Hennessy. The best you have."

Chester said nothing. He simply nodded and withdrew.

The silence stretched. Everyone had frozen mid-motion—even Alberta, her eyes wide as saucers.

Then she doubled over laughing.

"Oh my God." She wiped at her eyes. "You really can't help yourself, can you? A hidden menu? My husband and I have been here at least ten times—there's no such thing." She straightened, smirking. "If you're going to lie, at least make it believable."

The others exchanged glances, then turned to stare at me.

I could see it in their faces. They were waiting for me to crash and burn.

To them, I was still the same broke fool Alberta had thrown away like garbage.

Back then, I'd fought with my father over her—cut myself off from my family, ended up penniless, delivering takeout just to survive. I'd worked myself to the bone to pay off the $100,000 in online loans she'd racked up.

And the moment I did? She climbed into Francis Pruitt's bed.

I'd gone home after that. Took over the family business. Swore I'd never see Alberta Fox again.

Yet here I was at a class reunion, face to face with the gold-digging traitor who'd gutted me—while she publicly humiliated me, dragging up the debt I'd paid for her, grinding my dignity into the floor in front of everyone.

This I would not swallow.

"Just because you've never seen it," I said coolly, "doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It just means you weren't important enough."

I let a beat pass.

"I'd save my breath if I were you. When the food arrives, you're going to wish you had."

"Mike Finch, you—!"

Before she could finish, the doors swung open again.

Dish after dish flowed into the room—dozens of them, each one exquisite, each one drawing gasps as they were arranged across the table.

Chester followed, cradling two bottles of limited-edition Hennessy. He addressed the room with a slight bow.

"The owner wishes me to convey that everyone here tonight is an honored guest."

He paused.

"Your bill has been waived. Compliments of the house."

I gave a small, satisfied nod. The owner of Pinecrest Pavilion certainly knew how to play the game. A single meal to curry favor with the son of Harbor City's wealthiest man? A bargain, really.

"Please thank your boss for his generosity. Tell him—"

Alberta's hand shot up, cutting me off.