Seeing I dared to respond, she immediately ordered the waitstaff to surround us and said coldly, "I’m not afraid to tell you, this restaurant was given to me by my husband. I, Clara Lane, have the final say here. Whatever I say, you pay!"
"Don’t even bring up that I served you a pre-prepared meal. Even if I served you a pile of garbage, you’d still pay!"
"If you don’t settle the bill today and kneel down to apologize, you won’t be leaving this room!"
Clara Lane.
I froze slightly at the name. A while ago, my family received a package addressed to Clara Lane.
But the address had been my own home.
Out of curiosity, I opened it and found a set of extremely revealing lingerie.
I asked Ethan what was going on, but without a flicker of hesitation, he tossed the package into the trash, his expression calmly:
"It’s either a wrong delivery or just another marketing gimmick. I don’t care."
The truth I hadn’t seen before now surfaced with cruel clarity.
I looked at Clara coldly and said,
"I suggest you wait for Ethan to come over and let him explain personally who the two people standing here really are!"
Clara’s face darkened.