The manager froze, completely thrown off. He had called for Mister Saint-Claire—yet the other man stepped forward like the name belonged to him.
It was so shameless it made the air tighten.
“Excuse me,” the manager began, ready to correct the mistake.
But Alex lifted a hand, calm and steady. “It’s okay.”
Since Alex didn’t mind, the manager let it slide.
Gerhard, however, was glowing.
For a moment he looked stunned, then stunned turned into pride—especially with Renata standing beside him. Being greeted by the head manager himself? That was enough to inflate any ego.
Conrad stared at him, jaw dropped.
“Gerhard, you’re unbelievable. That guy’s the branch head. He treated you like royalty. Since when did you know people like that? You never mentioned any of this—such a low-profile man!”
Gerhard burst into self-satisfied laughter.
“Hahaha! No need to brag about my connections. I keep things quiet. Low-key is better!”
Renata blinked in surprise. For once, Gerhard didn’t seem like empty talk. Maybe he really was capable.
Perhaps this man was genuinely dependable—unlike Alex, who seemed to survive on the faint afterglow of a legacy that had already burned out.
It seemed that remaining near Gerhard would bring a good deal of convenience to her daily life.
The manager personally escorted the group to the entrance of the Platinum Suite, bowing them in with full respect.
But before Alex could step past the door, Gerhard’s shrill voice cut through the hallway.
“Damn it! Who gave you permission to enter?! You haven’t even thanked me—you didn’t ask, you didn’t bow, nothing!”
Conrad snapped at Alex, “You shameless rat! Do you have any idea who booked this room? You think you can just walk in before asking permission? Do you seriously believe you’re the one who reserved this place?!”
Alex frowned. “Yes.”
Silence—then an explosion of laughter. Hard, cruel, mocking.
Gerhard nearly doubled over.
“You are unbelievably shameless, Alex. I’ve had enough. Get out. You don’t deserve to be here. You have no right to join us. You’re an ungrateful bastard.”
The room vibrated with his anger, ego, and the poisonous satisfaction of humiliating someone he thought was beneath him.
The manager stiffened, startled by Gerhard’s loud, rude interruption.
His eyes shifted to Alex, silently asking if he should step in—if he should put this bastard in his place right now.
Alex gave a small shake of his head. “Never mind. Let them use the room. I’m not that petty.”
Beatrix burst out laughing.
“‘Let them use the room,’ he says. Look at him—acting like he’s the one who made the reservation.”
Alex didn’t care enough to fight. Renata was his wife’s best friend—he would show her some respect, but he had no desire to compete with Gerhard for the privilege of serving her.
If Gerhard wanted to play the perfect gentleman, if he wanted to flaunt, to impress—fine. Let him.
Alex could still tell his wife he reserved the Platinum Suite for her. That was enough.
Alex turned to leave.
Then Renata spoke.
“Hey, Gerhard… Alex is my best friend’s husband. At least give him a seat, don’t you think?”
Gerhard’s face brightened instantly. He flashed Renata the warmest smile he had.
“Since you asked, I’ll give him a corner seat.”
Annabella sneered.
“Alex, you should thank Gerhard. He’s giving you a chance to eat here.”
“Truly ungrateful bastard,” Conrad added as they walked into the room.
Alex sighed quietly.
‘The arrogant rise high with empty pride, But soon one strike reveals how hollow they truly are.’
Gerhard guided Renata to the main seat at the long, gleaming table.
Everyone crowded around her immediately—chatting, flattering, bending their words to entertain her.
Alex sat alone in the far corner, invisible.
Soon, the meal began.
Drone-operated robot waiters glided in, serving each course with mechanical precision.
The dishes were stunning—every plate crafted from the rarest, finest ingredients. Premium cuts of meat and top-grade seafood appeared only as side dishes.
Even the wine was an aged masterpiece—century-old bottles worth a hundred thousand dollars each.
Renata, born into a duke’s family and no stranger to luxury, had visited this restaurant several times.
Yet she still found herself stunned.
The extravagance of this spread—this feast—surpassed anything she had seen.
And Alex sat quietly in the corner, forgotten.
Conrad let out a long, jealous sigh as he scanned the table.
“Gerhard, what budget could possibly cover this? Every dish here is rare, highest-grade, impossibly fresh. Nothing about this feast is ordinary.”
Gerhard puffed out his chest, trying to look relaxed.
“I already told you. I prepared five hundred thousand dollars.”
Conrad’s eyes flew wide open.
“Are you serious? One bottle of this wine alone costs a hundred thousand dollars. And we’ve opened five. That’s not even counting the food. This whole thing already blew past your budget. Are you sure you didn’t screw something up?”
Gerhard kept a casual smile plastered on his face, but inside, his heart hammered hard.
Something wasn’t right.
He recalled the manager at the entrance, treating him as if he carried genuine authority.
Did he truly mention the Platinum Room? Not the Golden Room with its half-million ceiling?


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