Ex Cried as I Wed a Tycoon novel Chapter 240

Effie's brows knit in subtle annoyance as she replied to Irving Butler, “Mr. Butler, there's really no need for you to trouble yourself with this. We're both just trying to keep the clients happy, aren't we?”

Irving let out a dismissive snort.

At that moment, Lyman's assistant called back, informing them that the private dining room had already been taken by one of Lyman's friends.

But then, to everyone's surprise, the front desk staff greeted Effie and her group with unusual warmth, ushering them straight toward the very room in question.

If Irving Butler still hadn't figured out what was going on by now, he really was as dense as a brick.

Face tense, Irving trailed after the group. Once inside the private room, he forced a nonchalant smile, anxious not to let the Pattersons see through his unease.

There was no denying it—Lyman's private suite was in a different league altogether.

The room wasn't much larger than the others, but the interior exuded old-world charm. Instead of seeing a table and chairs upon entering, guests were met by a handcrafted wooden screen fitted with display shelves, artfully obscuring the view beyond. Anyone passing by could only catch a teasing glimpse of what lay inside.

The shelves themselves were lined with genuine antiques—none of them cheap replicas. Each piece was worth a small fortune.

Apparently, these were gifts from people hoping to curry favor with Lyman. If he liked something, he took it home; if not, it found a place here.

Beyond the screen stood a table of polished hardwood, surrounded by six chairs—just right for Lyman and his brothers, who often gathered here. Any more seats would have made the room feel empty.

Effie had visited once before, so she took it all in stride.

For Irving Butler and the others, though, it was their first time. They couldn't help but gawk at the paintings on the walls and the treasure-laden shelves, eyes darting from one marvel to the next.

Irving just snorted again, thinking to himself that Effie could act so generous only because she'd managed to cozy up to Randell. What was so impressive about that? Still, he kept his thoughts to himself.

“Ladies and gentlemen, all the dishes are served. Please enjoy your meal,” the server announced with a polite bow.

Mr. Patterson motioned the server over and asked quietly, “Excuse me, how much is this meal? I'd like to pay.”

They were all just regular employees, after all—how much could they really afford? Just getting the chance to dine here was a rare treat.

The server smiled. “No need, sir. This is a gift from our owner.”

“Your owner?”