"You're not short on food at home. Is this really necessary?" Aunt Marian scolded.

I took a deep breath, forcing down my anger.

"Aunt Marian, Mike insisted on splitting the bill. He even said he'd rather throw the leftovers away than let me take them. I just didn't want to waste—"

"Alright, that's enough!" She cut me off sharply. "Men care about their pride! Packing food right in front of him—wasn't that basically slapping him in the face, saying he couldn't afford to treat you? Mike's mother said it herself—women should be sensible, reserved. With behavior like yours, how are you ever going to marry into the McSally family?"

I let out a cold laugh.

Marry into the McSally family? Even if they begged me, I wouldn't be interested.

"Aunt Marian, if he's so outstanding, then save him for a woman who's more 'sensible,'" I said coolly.

"I'm not worthy of such a match."

With that, I hung up, thinking the matter was finally over. I didn't expect fate to circle back so quickly.

…

The next day, I went to inspect operations at our hotel.

I had just reached the entrance of the buffet when a loud commotion caught my attention.

"Don't hold back, everyone! Tonight's team dinner is on me. I know the manager here—got us an internal discount. Eat as much as you want!"

I would recognize that voice even if it turned to ash. Turning my head, I saw Mike standing in the center of a crowd, flushed with excitement, bragging animatedly.

The group around him looked like colleagues from his new job.

Coincidentally, the company—Helios Technology—was one of the tenants leasing office space in our hotel building.

I had no interest in engaging with him. Lowering the brim of my hat, I tried to slip past unnoticed.

"Well, well—if it isn't Jennifer?"

Mike's sharp eyes locked onto me instantly. His booming voice drew everyone's attention.

"What's this? Didn't get your fill last night, so you came back to loiter and scrounge another free meal?"

He strode over in a few quick steps, looking me up and down in my casual clothes, his eyes dripping with disdain.

"Jennifer, you're really something. Just to sneak into a five-star hotel, you'd stoop this low?"

He turned to his colleagues and announced loudly, "Let me introduce you all—this is the 'top-tier' blind date I posted about last night! Her family's dirt poor. On our date, she practically licked every plate clean and even tried to pack everything to go! After I called her out, she shamelessly refused to leave!"

Laughter erupted from the crowd. Their gazes pierced me like needles.

"Oh my God, she looks decent enough. How can she be so shameless?"

"Seriously, chasing men to this extent… unbelievable."

"I've seen plenty like her—just fishing here for a rich husband, right?"

I frowned, staring at Mike coldly.

"Watch your mouth. I'm here on business."

"On business?" Mike let out an exaggerated scoff. "What kind of business? Begging?"

He casually grabbed two dry, hardened buns from a nearby serving cart and tossed them into my arms as if feeding a stray dog.

"There, there—since we did go on a date, I'll toss you a bone. Take these and chew on them. Stop embarrassing yourself here and get lost."

The buns fell to the floor, rolling twice and picking up dust.

I looked down at them—and then laughed, my anger reaching its peak.

'Very well. If you're so determined to court disaster, don't blame me for what comes next,' I fumed inwardly.

I was just about to call for security when Mike suddenly spotted several senior executives approaching from a distance. His expression flipped instantly as he hurried over, all smiles and obsequious charm.

"Ah! Mr. Vance! What a coincidence!"

It was Edgar Vance, manager of the hotel's Food and Beverage Department.

Mike turned to his colleagues, puffing himself up. "See that? That's one of the hotel's top executives! We go way back—tight as brothers! With just a word from me, getting fifty percent off tonight's bill is nothing!"

A chorus of admiration rippled through the group as his coworkers praised his connections and clout.

Basked in their flattery, Mike practically floated, completely missing the way Edgar looked at him—as if he were unhinged.

Edgar was just about to lose his temper when his gaze swept over to me.

I lifted a hand slightly, signaling stay calm, then pointed at Mike… and tapped my temple.

A seasoned professional, Edgar understood instantly.

He swallowed whatever reprimand he'd been about to deliver and replaced it with a polished, professional smile. "Since you insist, we'll make sure everyone enjoys themselves tonight."

Hearing that, Mike grew even more smug, his nose practically pointing at the ceiling.

"Did you hear that? That's influence! That's status!"

He shot me a provocative glance. "Jennifer, see the gap between us? Someone like you will spend your whole life eating other people's leftovers!"

Mike truly believed he'd secured a golden pass. The moment he stepped into the private room, he completely let himself go.

"Waiter! Bring out everything expensive on the menu—Australian lobster, foie gras, bouillabaisse, black truffles—serve them all!

"As for drinks? Beer? Are you kidding? We've got female colleagues here tonight. Open two bottles of '82 Lafite! And that Macallan M Black Decanter—bring us two, just to rinse our mouths!"

The server hesitated, instinctively glancing toward me, who was standing quietly by the door.

Leaning against the frame, I gave a blank nod.

If he dared to order, we would dare to serve it. After all, I wouldn't be the one paying.

Round after round of drinks, course after course of dishes. Mike's face flushed deep red as he drank himself into a haze. His tie hung crooked, one foot planted on a chair as he grandly held court.

"I'm telling you—what matters in life is vision! Take Jennifer, for example. Tsk, tsk—textbook low-class mindset! For a few scraps of meat, she threw away all dignity! Unlike how my mother raised me! When a man spends money, he does it with style!"

A female colleague beside him chimed in flatteringly, "Exactly, Mike! How could a woman like that ever be worthy of you? She's not even fit to carry your shoes!"

Mike burst into laughter. "Carry my shoes? She'd have to get in line first!

"If it weren't for the fact that she's somewhat good-looking, I might've had a little fun. Who knew she was a brainless pauper? Good thing I got out fast—otherwise, once someone like that sticks to you, you can't shake her off!"

Standing in the shadows, I listened as they twisted the story with every venomous word they could muster.

In their telling, I'd become a desperate, scheming woman willing to do anything to marry into wealth—even stalking an ex.

My fists clenched. But I held back. The higher they lifted him now, the harder he would fall later.

At last, it was time to settle the bill.

A server walked in, holding a long receipt, and said with a polite smile, "Sir, your total comes to 188,800 dollars."

The private room fell silent.

The once-rowdy crowd now looked like ducks with their throats clamped shut.

Half of Mike's drunkenness evaporated on the spot. His eyes bulged, as if they might pop right out of their sockets.

"H-How much?!" Mike stuttered.

"188,800 dollars," the server repeated, her professional smile unwavering.

"Are you ripping me off?!" Mike shot to his feet. "It's just a few dishes—how could it cost that much?!"

"Sir, the alcohol alone account for 150,000. The Australian lobster and black truffles are also priced at market rate."

Mike's face drained of color. Cold sweat streamed down his forehead.

He wiped at it frantically, forcing himself to sound composed. "Well… I'm a friend of Mr. Vance! He said I'd get fifty percent off! No—ninety percent off!"

The server shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Vance did not authorize any discount. And our establishment does not offer discounts as a rule."

"Bullshit! He agreed to it right at the entrance!"

Panicking, Mike pulled out his phone and pretended to make a call. But he didn't even have Mr. Vance's number.

He jabbed at the screen a few times, muttering "Hello? Hello?" to thin air before slamming the phone onto the table in frustration.

"Damn it! Bad signal!"

By now, the expressions of his colleagues and supervisors had completely changed.

The department manager, who had been seated at the head of the table, stood up with a dark expression.

"Mike, this is your 'inside connection'? This is what you call treating us to dinner? This meal is worth half a year of our department's budget! How are we supposed to reimburse this?!"

Mike's legs began to tremble.

One hundred eighty-eight thousand… Even if he sold himself, he couldn't come up with that kind of money.

Just as he was running out of options, his gaze suddenly landed on me, standing by the door, watching the show unfold.

In that instant, a vicious gleam flashed in his eyes, as if he'd seized his last lifeline. He pointed at me and shouted, "Wait! I've got it! I'm not the one paying for this meal—she is!"

All eyes turned to me once again.

Mike rushed over like a madman, reaching out to grab my hand. I sidestepped, avoiding him.

Unfazed, he turned to his manager and colleagues and declared loudly, "Everyone, the truth is—this dinner was arranged by Jennifer as an apology to me! She felt guilty about what happened yesterday and insisted on treating everyone to make it up to me! She even wants to get back together!

"She's a… uh… regular at this hotel! She ordered all these dishes! This has nothing to do with me!"

I raised an eyebrow. I'd seen shameless people before, but never anyone this shameless.

So now he wanted to dump the bill on me?

…

"Jennifer! Say something!"

Seeing my silence, Mike assumed I was intimidated and grew even more brazen.

Step by step, he closed in, his eyes filled with threat.

"In front of everyone, stop pretending. Since this is your way of making it up to me, I'll reluctantly accept it. As long as you pay the bill, we can still talk about us."

The surrounding colleagues began whispering among themselves.

Some found the situation absurd, but faced with an 188,800 dollar bill, no one wanted to be the one left holding the bag. Since someone was willing to take the fall, they were more than happy to go along with it.

Someone even chimed in, "Oh, so it's just a lovers' quarrel? Miss, if you want to apologize, you should do it properly—don't put Mike in an awkward spot."

I looked at their ugly expressions and spoke coldly, "Mike, if you're suffering from delusions, go get treatment. You ordered this meal yourself—what does it have to do with me? We deleted each other's contacts yesterday."