The Unshackled King (by David Wu) novel Chapter 109

Evan felt his wallet was lighter. As someone from an established family, he knew the price of Glenfiddich 80 Year Old Reserve. Outside, a bottle went for around 300 thousand dollars.

But this was Drizzlewood Retreat. Prices here were inevitably steeper. A single bottle of the Glenfiddich in this establishment would likely run from 350 thousand to over 400 thousand dollars.

Which meant Stefan, with three bottles ordered, was looking at a minimum wine bill of a million.

That was just the wine. Add in the private dining room fee, the exquisite dishes, the premium service, and all the other incidentals, and this single meal would easily clear one and a half, maybe one point six million.

This far exceeded the budget Evan had mentally prepared.

Damn it, the guy was doing this on purpose!

The thought seethed inside him, and he shot a venomous glare Stefan's way from beneath lowered lids.

"Something on your mind, Mr. Sterling? Worried the bill's getting too heavy?" Stefan smiled, a hint of mockery flickering in his eyes.

Admitting he couldn't afford it was out of the question. That would shatter his image completely, especially in front of Sara.

How could he appear generous and impressive then? A million-plus was still within his means.

What truly grated was the feeling of being played by Stefan.

"Think nothing of it. This meal is on me. And if Mr. Stewart, Mrs. Stewart, and Sara ever wish to dine here again, my invitation stands," Evan declared with forced heartiness.

"That's very kind of you, Evan, but a place like this is for rare occasions. One can't simply drop by whenever the whim strikes," Chuck replied with a warm chuckle.

His gaze held clear appreciation for Evan, seeing in him the epitome of a proper, magnanimous young man—worthy of his daughter.

"Mr. Stewart, with the connection I share with Sara, please, no formalities with me," Evan pressed, his smile unwavering.

"Evan." Sara's voice cut in, cool and clear. "We're here to eat. Let's not discuss other matters. You and I are university classmates. Nothing more. I wouldn't want any misunderstandings."

The unspoken subject of her "misunderstandings" was painfully obvious to everyone present.

The smile froze on Evan's face.

Stefan, however, felt a surge of private glee. He couldn't resist sending a subtle, appreciative glance Sara's way.

His fiancée certainly knew how to back him up in public, effortlessly upholding his dignity.

The private room buzzed with activity as servers began presenting the meal.

A lavish spread of delicacies covered the table, their aromas mingling enticingly. The wines arrived, presented with ceremony.

Stefan reached for one of the bottles of Glenfiddich 80 Year Old. The soft pop of the cork released an immediate, profound fragrance—a rich, oaky bouquet of aged spirits and dried fruit that filled the air, potent enough to feel intoxicating on its own.

"Allow me, Mr. Stewart." Stefan's tone was respectful as he poured the amber liquid first into a crystal carafe, then filled Chuck's glass.

Chuck's eyes lit up. This was the good stuff, a luxury he seldom indulged in himself.

Who the hell is the host here today?

He was paying for this! And everyone was toasting and drinking like he was not even here?

It was all this guy's fault, stealing the spotlight.

This dinner was meant to be his moment to shine, to flaunt his success. He couldn't just stand by.

Finally, he turned to Sara, his smile back in place. "Sara, a toast to you as well."

"Can't you see I'm eating?" Sara didn't even look up, her voice chilly, her expression one of mild irritation, as if Evan were a persistent nuisance.

Evan was left holding his glass aloft, caught in a torturous limbo—unable to drink, unwilling to lower it. The air grew thick with his discomfort.

"Come now, Evan, let's have another." Chuck jumped in, adeptly smoothing over the awkwardness.

He raised his own glass toward Evan, then deftly shifted the topic. "Evan, you mentioned earlier that you could help Sara secure a collaboration opportunity with the Reed family?"

"Absolutely," Evan said, straightening his posture, a thread of pride weaving into his voice.

"As you know, Mr. Stewart, my father's company has expanded into Mound City and has established a business partnership with the Reeds. So, our family is quite familiar with them."

It was true that the Sterling family business had set up operations in Mound City. But claims of being "quite familiar" with the powerful Reed family and having a direct "partnership" were significant exaggerations.

There was a connection, but it was indirect—more akin to catching scraps from the master's table.

A major corporation with direct ties to the Reeds would occasionally bundle and outsource minor, peripheral projects to the Sterling family's firm.

In essence, Evan's family business survived on the crumbs from the Reed empire's feast.

Yet, in Evan's telling, this tenuous link transformed into a close, mutually beneficial relationship.