The Unshackled King (by David Wu) novel Chapter 108

"You're paying?" Stefan glanced at Evan.

"Of course! If you can get us a table in the Apex Room, the dinner's on me." Evan smiled, already anticipating Stefan's impending humiliation.

Securing the Apex Room would start at a million dollars minimum.

Even for someone like Evan, dropping over a million on a single meal would sting.

But he knew securing that reservation was impossible.

When he'd booked the Peak Chamber, he'd casually asked about the Apex Room, only to be told it was unavailable—likely reserved by someone influential.

Trying to boast and show off, huh? Get into the Apex Room? Fat Chance! Once a reservation was confirmed here at Drizzlewood Retreat, it was set in stone. That was the rule. Stefan would make a fool of himself!

Evan sneered inwardly.

Hearing Evan's confident offer, Stefan couldn't help but smile.

He'd come today fully intending to make Evan pay—and to make it as expensive as possible.

He was just about to press the call button for the server when Sara spoke up, her voice laced with impatience.

"Are we eating or not? If we're not, I'm leaving."

Her gaze shifted from Stefan to Evan, cool and dismissive. "What Stefan said earlier wasn't an exaggeration. From now on, if he wants to dine here, I'll come with him. He can come anytime."

Evan's face fell as if he'd swallowed something vile.

He couldn't miss the protective tone in Sara's words.

Earlier, he'd mocked Stefan's claim about coming to Drizzlewood Retreat anytime, but now Sara was essentially backing him up.

Given Sara's status as Vice President of Stewart Group, she certainly had the means and the clout to make that happen.

Evan pressed his lips, itching to retort that this wasn't Stefan's own ability—he was just riding on Sara's coattails.

But saying so would sound bitter and petty.

Noticing Sara's icy expression, he quickly forced a smile. "Of course we're here to eat. Let's order. What would you like to drink? Mrs. Stewart, Sara, perhaps some red wine? I'll order a bottle of '82 Lafite for you."

"That's fine," Sara replied flatly.

80-year Glenfiddich?

Even Chuck glanced at Stefan, surprised—this was perhaps the most agreeable thing he'd ever heard from him.

Flattery, after all, was hard to resist.

Chuck couldn't help but feel a small swell of satisfaction. After all, an 80-year Reserve Glenfiddich was no ordinary indulgence—it was a luxury few could even dream of tasting.

As the words left Stefan's mouth, Evan felt a sudden dread. Before he could react, Stefan continued, "We'll start with three bottles of the 80-year Reserve, please."

"Wait—" Evan blurted.

Stefan looked at him, feigning confusion. "What's wrong, Mr. Sterling? Can't afford it? Or do you think Mr. Stewart isn't worthy of an 80-year Reserve?"

Evan clenched his jaw but forced a smile. "Of course not. I just thought three bottles might be too much. Will we finish it all?"

"Mr. Sterling, you clearly don't know Mr. Stewart's capacity—or mine, for that matter."

Ignoring the murderous glare Evan shot him, Stefan turned back to the server. "Just as I said. Three bottles to start. We'll order more if needed."

The server nodded and left the room.