His Name is Law, I'm Self-Made

During the company dinner, everyone was allowed to order what they wanted.

But when it was my turn, Tyron, the new intern, suddenly snatched the menu out of my hands.

“That's enough. No more orders.”

I ignored him and turned to the waiter. “One vanilla bean panna cotta, please.”

Out of nowhere, Tyron slammed the menu right into my face, his eyes blazing.

“I said no more orders. What part of that didn’t you get? Who the hell do you think you are, huh?”

The edge of the menu scraped across my cheek, leaving a burning red line. My patience snapped clean in an instant.