Cheap Meal, Priceless Revenge

Just then, a young man in a limited-edition bespoke suit stepped into the restaurant. He radiated an overwhelmingly powerful air and had two assistants trailing behind him.

The moment Colette saw him, the expression on her face flipped like a switch. She could no longer be bothered to humiliate me and jogged over to welcome him.

"Oh my goodness, Mr. Julian Fairchild! What a surprise! You should've called ahead so I could save the best window seat for you!"

Julian took off his sunglasses and casually scanned the room. "I'm just here with some friends. Same table as usual."

Colette nodded vigorously and bowed her head so low that it nearly touched the floor. "Absolutely! It's available right now. This way, Mr. Fairchild. Watch your step."

She fawningly ushered him along, and as she passed my table, she bumped into my chair on purpose.

Once she had him settled, she poured every ounce of her energy into serving his table, pouring coffee, and constantly checking in. She looked like she was even ready to spoon-feed him.

In contrast, my table was completely forgotten. The rest of my dishes never showed up, and even Claire, the trainee from earlier, was too terrified to come near me.

I didn't mind either. Instead, I pulled out my phone, logged into the company's internal management system, and pulled up the procurement and inventory records for this restaurant over the last three months.

It was just as I had expected. There were zero purchases for Pearlysian scallops and an unusually high volume of frozen, domestic ones.

But it wasn't just the scallops. Black truffles, caviar, prime reserve Angus… None of the procurement records for the premium ingredients matched the accounting logs.

Instead, they were systematically substituted with subpar products or cheap imitation goods.

When I tapped on the financial statements and saw that the costs and expenses remained sky-high, that told me everything.

This was a classic case of internal collusion, with people inflating procurement prices, taking kickbacks, and pocketing the difference.

As the floor captain, the fact that Colette brazenly mistreated guests while defending these substandard dishes meant that she was more than just a waitress in this profit chain.

While I was going through the financial statements, Julian at the next table seemed dissatisfied with today's dishes too.

"What's going on with this steak? I ordered medium rare, but it was served well done. How am I supposed to eat this?"

Colette paled in fright and quickly apologized. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Fairchild. The new chef must have misread the ticket. I'll have them redo it and bring you a fresh plate right away!"

As she turned around, still wearing her sycophantic smile, she caught me holding up my phone in her direction.

I was taking a photo of the untouched scallops on my plate as evidence, but to her, it looked like I was secretly snapping photos of Julian or recording her embarrassing blunder.

She stormed over and snatched my phone. "What do you think you're doing? Who gave you permission to take photos of guests? Don't you have any manners? Believe it or not, I'll call the police and have you arrested for violating other people's privacy!"

Having my phone snatched away was the last straw, and my blood boiled.

"Give me my phone back."

I stood up and looked straight at her.

"First, I was taking a photo of my table. Second, you're a waitress, not a police officer, so you don't have the right to seize my personal belongings.

"And third, if you don't put that phone down right now, the consequences will be more than you can bear."

Colette waved my phone and wore a smug, taunting expression.

"Oh! You're threatening me now, aren't you? I'd love to see what kind of consequences you think you can make me face."