Miracle Cutie (Amelia and Benjamin) novel Chapter 20

I was about to leave the restaurant my brother owned when the manager called out to me, “Miss, excuse me, you haven’t settled your bill yet.”

I looked at the unfamiliar face, assuming she was new and didn’t recognize me. Calmly, I said, “Just put it on your boss’s tab. He knows.”

The female manager looked me up and down with clear disdain. “Miss, our restaurant has three Michelin stars. We’ve never had the practice of letting anyone run a tab.”

With that, she handed me a printed bill.

I glanced down-$500,000. For just one meal.

“Table setting charge,” $30,000.

“Air quality surcharge,” $50,000.

“VIP ambiance charge fee,” $100,000.

And a bunch of other random charges.

I had no idea my brother was running such a rip–off joint. I couldn’t help but laugh in anger.

“I’m your boss’s sister. If there’s a problem, he can talk to me at home.”

But she wouldn’t back down, “Can’t afford it, huh? Trying to use Mr. Montgomery’s name to get by?”

I sent a quick text to my secretary:

[Tell my brother, either fire his female manager, or I’ll pull out my investment.]

“Miss, stop wasting everyone’s time. Pay up,” she said, her tone firm and mocking, as if she had already

pegged me as a vain woman trying to mooch off a free meal and latch onto my brother’s status.

Around me, I could already feel a few pairs of eyes sneaking glances.

I frowned, not wanting to waste time on such a stupid thing, and pulled out my phone, dialing my brother’s number.

But all I got was the cold, dead tone of a busy line. I tried again, but it was the same.

It was a workday. Where the hell is he?

I set the phone down, looked straight at the stubborn woman before me, and repeated slowly, word by word,

“I’ll say it again. I’m Sophia, Blake’s real sister.”

How could his taste be this bad?

Turned out, this whole outrageous “$500,000” bill wasn’t a mistake at all; it was a premeditated humiliation.

Before I could say a word, she completely lost her patience.

“Well, since this lady wants to eat for free, I guess we’ll have to hold her here until the cops come!”

She waved her hand, and two burly security guards who’d been standing by immediately moved in.

One of them pressed his hand firmly over my mouth, while the other twisted my arms behind me like a pretzel.

I struggled with everything I had, but the difference in strength between us was too much. My efforts were useless.

They ignored my furious glares and the frightened looks of the other customers, roughly dragging me toward the kitchen.

Then they shoved me into a back storage room that reeked of a mix of disinfectant and stale water.

The door slammed shut, cutting off all the light and sound from the outside world.