The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 485

Gerhard felt a cold, sharp dread slice through him. He was a Captain and a Baron's son, born to privilege, but here, under the heavy shadow of Viscount Leopold, he was nothing.

A target.

If the Viscount decided to strike, Gerhard's pride, his bones, and his carefully constructed world would shatter.

He could only endure the beating, retreat to his room, and weep the slow, agonizing tears of utter defeat.

"Sir, is the woman truly your sister?"

Leopold's eyes, cold and merciless, bored into him. "I just met her an hour ago. But I say she's my sister, and that's exactly what she is. What in God's name is it to you, you little insect!"

A sharp, open-handed crack echoed through the private room. Leopold's slap sent Gerhard's head whipping sideways.

Now, everyone present knew the chilling truth: Viscount Leopold hadn't come for an argument; he was hunting trouble, and Gerhard was his prey.

Yet, the question hung heavy in the air: Why? Why was a Viscount, a man of such power, tearing into Gerhard?

The restaurant manager burst into the room, tripping over his own frantic pace. "Sir! Viscount Leopold! Please, I beg you, a moment's calm!"

Leopold roared, "What?! Are you siding with this spoiled little bastard?"

"No! Absolutely not, sir!" The manager held up placating hands, his professional demeanor barely masking his terror.

"This is the Platinum Room. Everything here—the wine, the food, the service—it's ruinously expensive. Before you... before you break him and send him to the grave, I need to ensure he settles his tab. We can't have him blowing his payment on a hospital bed instead of our food!"

Leopold sneered. "Fine. Make it quick. I haven't had my fill yet."

The manager scurried to Gerhard, "Sir, please. Pay the bill now. Settle your debt to the house before you try to settle your debt to the Viscount."

Gerhard's face burned crimson, a mix of pain from the slap and sheer, burning humiliation.

He was being made to pay after being assaulted, and it was all happening in front of Renata, the very woman he had hoped to impress with his supposed grandeur.

"What? We haven't even finished the meal! Do you think I can't afford this? Don't you know who I am!"

The manager leaned closer, "You know, I think you've asked that exact question more than ten times since you first walked in here. Do you have amnesia? Or maybe a severe personality disorder that makes you need to ask every soul on earth for confirmation of your own name?"

"You…" Gerhard was speechless, a burning knot in his throat.

What the hell happened? He was usually the star of the show, but suddenly, every face he encountered today looked down on him—forgetting him, dismissing him, and casting him aside like trash.

The manager didn't wait. He thrust the bill forward. "Two million dollars. That is the total cost of the food and beverages. Pay it. Now."

A silence, thick and suffocating, descended on the room.

Gerhard had to blink several times, trying to focus on the impossible number, before he could force a single, hoarse word from his lips: "What?"

Beatrix, Conrad, and Annabella stared, jaws slack with disbelief.

Two million dollars. That colossal sum could buy ten respectable homes, yet they were expected to spend it all on a single, disastrous lunch.

"Impossible," Gerhard finally choked out.

The manager remained unmoved. He tapped a sleek bracelet on his wrist, and the full itemized cost instantly displayed on every screen in the room.

"This is the documented price for the food and service. You are free to cross-reference this bill at any branch of this establishment. If you find our prices are higher than anywhere else, we'll not only refund the difference—we'll pay you back double the overcharge. Check all you want. You won't find a penny out of place."

"But," Gerhard stammered, his face pale beneath the lingering sting of Leopold's slap. "I booked the Golden Suite! The maximum price there is barely half a million!"

"This is the Platinum Suite," the manager corrected him, his tone dripping with contempt. "Can you not even read the plaque on the door?"

Platinum Suite?

No wonder the air tasted of old money, the dishware gleamed like museum pieces, and the wine felt like liquid velvet.

It was a level of luxury they hadn't just afforded—they had stumbled into it.

A cold, greasy sweat slicked Conrad's forehead. The Platinum Suite was a fortress of exclusivity; he was barely qualified to stand near its door, let alone dine within it.

"Are you certain it's Platinum?" Gerhard insisted, desperation creeping into his voice. "We never ordered this room!"

The manager allowed himself a brief, chilling sneer. "You are correct, sir. This room was reserved for the Marquis Saint-Claire. But seeing as you insisted on taking it, and the Marquis was generous enough to let you, you should count yourselves lucky."

Beatrix, trying to grasp at a lifeline, interjected sharply. "Then is Alex not responsible for the bill? If this was his booking—"

"The Marquis Saint-Claire only drank the complimentary tea, so he owes us nothing," the manager sneered.

"And as for Lady Renata Winter, Mr. Alex has already settled the cost of her meal. The two-million-dollar bill is strictly for you, the uninvited swine who smashed into this room and gorged yourselves on food you couldn't afford!"

Gerhard's mind reeled, the pieces of the puzzle snapping together into a terrifying picture.

"What?" he sputtered, his voice choked with disbelief. "How in the name of God could Alex have secured this room? And paid Lady Renata Winter's share of the meal?"

The manager’s cold voice delivered the final, crushing explanation.

"It's simple. This entire restaurant, the entire establishment, owes the Saint-Claire family a debt of honor—a promise made long ago. We swore to grant the heir one last, significant wish to fulfill that old promise. He used that single, priceless favor to secure this room and invite the Lady Renata here."

The manager straightened. "Right now, your idiotic question is irrelevant. You need to focus on what matters. Pay the money first. Stop thinking about things that won't save you."

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