Chapter 2

"Sir, don't waste everyone's time. Just pay up."

His tone was full of smug certainty and biting contempt, as if he'd already pegged me as a cheap opportunist trying to leech off women to get ahead. A few curious stares from nearby customers were already drifting my way.

I frowned, not wanting to waste time on such a ridiculous situation. I pulled out my phone and dialed Mia's number directly.

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

Workday. What the hell is she doing?

I lowered my phone, fixing my gaze on the aggressive man in front of me. I reiterated, word by word:

"I'm going to say this one more time. My name is Liam. I am Mia's biological brother, your boss."

"Her phone's off right now, but you can check her credit card. My photo and information are linked to it."

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

But the male manager, Blake, after hearing my name, didn't bother to verify. Instead, he burst into a loud, grating laugh.

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

Then, he suddenly leaned in close, lowering his voice until only we two could hear him. "Still playing games? I've seen your face in Mia's photo album countless times! You're that persistent pest who always sticks his nose into our business! And now you have the nerve to waltz into her restaurant, trying to put your meal on her tab? Do you really think you're someone important?"

I froze for a split second, glancing at his name tag – Blake. Then, an overwhelming sense of exasperation washed over me. Mia's boyfriend, the one she'd kept so secret, refusing to even show me a single photo.

It was this stupid, malicious man standing right in front of me.

How could her taste be so utterly terrible?

Turns out, this fifty-thousand-dollar "sky-high bill" today wasn't a misunderstanding at all. It was a premeditated setup designed to humiliate me.

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

"Since this gentleman wants to go dining and dashing, we'll just have to detain him until the police arrive!"

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

They were two well-trained strongmen, and I was completely outnumbered. My resistance was quickly suppressed; my arms were twisted brutally behind my back.

I struggled violently but couldn't break free from their professional hold. They ignored my furious glare and the alarmed looks of the other customers, roughly dragging me towards the back kitchen.

Then I was roughly shoved into a storage room reeking of stale food and harsh disinfectant. The door slammed shut, cutting off all light and sound from outside.