"It’s just five kilos over — I’ll eat them!"

He muttered as he stuffed potato after potato into his mouth.

A small crowd began to gather, some even pulling out their phones to record.

Camera shutters clicked. Someone was livestreaming.

"Guys, check this out — it’s Potato Guy at the airport eating potatoes on the spot!"

Humiliation washed over me, and I instinctively took a step back.

He had already eaten ten potatoes and was clearly full, but still kept forcing more into his mouth.

I finally couldn’t stand it anymore.

"Stop. This is bad for your health. Just pay for the extra weight and check it in."

He looked up, potato crumbs at the corner of his mouth, glaring at me.

"Do you know how hard farmers work to grow these? Every bite counts! Stop standing there — eat one too!"

He shoved a mashed potato toward me.

It was crushed and unappetizing.

I stepped back, suppressing my disgust.

"I’m not hungry. Thanks."

"No, you have to eat!"

His tone turned commanding.

"From now on, you’ll eat my mom’s potato stew three times a day. Otherwise, how much money do you think we’d waste eating out? A King family daughter-in-law should know how to be frugal!"

I was completely stunned.

People like this still exist?

I took a deep breath.

"I’m not eating it."

Jason’s face hardened.

"You’re just the pampered daughter of a small factory — stop acting spoiled. Are potatoes too good for you?"

I was shocked — after years of business cooperation, he had no idea about the Lane Corporation’s true power or my real identity?

But for Grandpa’s sake, I stayed silent.

As more people gathered to watch, I gently tugged his sleeve.

"People are staring. Calm down."

Maybe that worked, because he finally stopped eating.

But he kept grumbling.

"A woman who doesn’t know thrift will never run a household. What was Aunt May thinking introducing me to such a crazy girl?"

I heard it but stayed quiet.

We finally boarded the plane, but once inside, Jason started again — gawking and pointing everywhere.

"Wow, so this is what a plane looks like! Are these leather seats? Doesn’t look like it! My house furniture is nicer!"

His loud voice drew more stares. I wanted to disappear.

"Hey, why do you look so experienced? Been on a plane before? How can your family’s little factory afford this?"

I forced a tight smile.

"Jason, it’s the 21st century. Flying isn’t expensive — normal people can afford it."

That was like poking a hornet’s nest.

"Not expensive? Do you know how many people go hungry in the world? Do you know how many potatoes this ticket could buy? Enough to feed a family for a month!"

He was full of self-righteous anger.

I’d had enough and pulled out my phone to complain to Grandpa about this living disaster.

I had just typed “Grandpa, the man you introduced me to—” when Jason leaned over, snatched my phone, and sneered at my contact list.

"Is that Robert Lane’s profile picture? You claim to know Robert Lane? Stop pretending — you think name-dropping will get my family to raise your engagement gifts?"

I clenched my jaw and said as calmly as I could:

"Didn’t Aunt May tell you about me? Not even my last name?"

Jason crossed one leg over the other, looking smug.

"She said you were from Portland. Who cares enough to ask more? Me? I’m a real Seattle native — do you know how valuable a Seattle household registration is? People would kill for it!"

He then launched into bragging about his family’s glorious history, their tiny house that he claimed was worth a fortune, and how many machines his mom’s factory had — which, to me, sounded pathetically small.

Just then, the flight attendant brought us two airplane meals.

Jason’s eyes went wide.

"There’s food? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?"

"Are you mute? You made me eat all those potatoes downstairs! When you marry into the King family, you’d better learn to speak up!"

I’d had enough.

"Jason, we’re not — and never will be — in the kind of relationship you’re imagining."

He ignored me, looked me up and down like an emperor picking a concubine, then took out his phone and sent a voice message to his mom.

"Mom, I met her! Not bad — a bit mouthy, but pretty. Passes the first test!"

After sending it, he suddenly turned pale, ran to the restroom to throw up, then returned satisfied.

"Waiter! Are there more meals? I wasn’t full earlier — bring me ten more!"

I wondered if he was addicted to getting free stuff.

He didn’t finish all ten and even stuffed two quail eggs up his sleeve for later.

"Listen — since we’re traveling together, we follow King family rules. If you get hungry, only eat the potatoes I packed in the outer pocket of my bag. Don’t buy outside food — waste of money."

He patted the potato-stuffed backpack proudly.

I stared at him, searching for a trace of humor, but found none.

King family rules?

Were they about conquering the world with potatoes?

Grandpa’s text came just then:

"Sweetheart, you can’t judge someone’s character after such a short time. Give him another chance."

I gripped my phone tightly and followed Jason off the plane.

"I booked us a place to stay — picked it carefully!"

His “careful choice” turned out to be walking us past a row of luxury five-star resorts.

We squeezed through several cluttered back alleys before finally stopping in front of a crookedly signed budget motel hidden behind a row of hotels.

"Here we are! Not bad, huh?"

Jason lifted his chin proudly, as if he had brought me to a luxury palace.

One look at the peeling paint on the doorframe set off all my internal alarms.

"How much per night?"

"Two hundred eighty."

He smirked.

"In this area, during tourist season? Total steal!"

A steal? More like stolen straight from the city dump.

I swallowed my disgust and followed him through the creaky security door.

The moment it opened, a mix of mold and sweat hit my nose.

The sheets were stained with grease and… other questionable marks.

I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to walk right out.

"Jason, you call this a good place?"

He sneered.

"Two-eighty isn’t cheap enough for you? Do you know how many potatoes that can buy? The cheapest hotels in this area are over eight hundred a night, and they’re all booked solid! Stop being picky."

"Booked solid?" I laughed coldly.

"I think you just couldn’t find a decent place."

"Fine, Miss Princess. You think you can do better? Go ahead."

I ignored him, pulled out my phone, and started making calls.

Jason, meanwhile, began checking in as if nothing was wrong.

Just then, a man in a loud floral shirt and hair slicked back appeared, grinning.

"Jason! You made it! Hey, is the lady not happy with the room?"

Jason’s face lit up like he’d found an ally. He threw an arm around the guy’s shoulders.

"Tyler Brooks! Perfect timing. Tell her this place is great — she keeps complaining."

He jerked his chin toward me.

"Tyler, my best buddy. And this is my future wife. Pretty hot, right? Just needs to fix that temper if she’s going to serve my parents properly someday."

Tyler nodded vigorously and winked at me.

"Oh yeah, Jason’s the best guy in our crew. Back when we traveled, we stayed in dorm beds for twenty bucks a night and he loved it. You’ll have a good life with him."

Twenty-dollar dorm beds?

My temples throbbed.

What kind of freak was this man?

I didn’t even bother to correct Jason’s delusional introduction.

"Sophia."

I turned and saw Ethan Reed standing at the entrance of the run-down motel, looking completely out of place in his perfectly tailored casual outfit.

He walked over naturally and took the handle of my suitcase.

"Was the trip smooth? My car’s out front."

"How could Grandpa let you stay somewhere like this? What if something happened to you?"

"I booked a luxury five-star resort nearby. Let’s head there first, then grab dinner at the steakhouse."

Ethan didn’t spare Jason or his sleazy friend a glance.

But before he could pull my suitcase away, Jason lunged forward and shoved Ethan’s hand aside.

"Who the hell are you? Putting your hands on my fiancée in broad daylight?!"