Chapter 5 You Really Shouldn't Have Come Here In The First Place

Sylvie set her phone on the table, tilting the screen toward her two friends as she shook her head in mock disbelief. Clicking her tongue, she smirked. "Who would've guessed? The Barretts' adopted daughter didn't even finish grade school and started mingling in social circles at ten. Hey, how many boyfriends do you think she's had?"

Rosie picked up the phone, her eyes narrowing as she read the information about Brenna. There were also photos of Brenna from different periods, her rebellious fashion sense on full display. Some shots showed her in bold, dramatic makeup, and some showed her surrounded by men-none of the men looked ordinary, and a few were noticeably older than her.

"Where did you get this from?" Rosie asked, intrigued. "I tried digging into her background before but came up with nothing."

Sylvie leaned back with a proud smile. "I had my brother ask his friend to investigate. Turns out, Brenna has been skipping school and picking fights since she was a kid. At one point, she even had to leave the country because she couldn't stay here anymore."

Rosie was stunned, her brows raised. "If she becomes a member of my family, won't that be a disaster?"

Sylvie's grin widened. "Isn't that the best part?"

After a while, Rosie chuckled. "I suppose it is."

Brenna ate without pretense, not because she had poor manners but because of sheer hunger. By the time she had cleared half the dishes, she finally felt a lot better.

Yet, the Harper family was still nowhere to be seen. She glanced at her phone-it was two in the afternoon. No word from them. She sent a message to Rosie.

"When are you coming?"

Rosie's reply came almost instantly. "Sorry, I might not make it today. Just leave when you're done eating. I'll cover the bill."

A slow, knowing smirk crept onto Rosie's lips as she sent the message. She then swiftly typed another to the waitress.

As if on cue, the waitress who had been attending to Brenna approached her again, moving at a leisurely pace.

By now, Brenna had pulled out her bulky black laptop and opened a stock trading page, the screen glowing faintly.

The waitress, noticing the outdated model of Brenna's laptop, barely concealed her disdain but tried hard to keep her tone polished. "Miss, could you please settle the bill?"

Brenna blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't even indicated she was ready to leave, yet the waitress was already rushing her to pay? When had the Flavor Restaurant's customer service become so terrible?

She turned the screen of her phone toward the waitress, showing her Rosie's message, her voice calm. "My friend said she'd handle the bill. Her name is Rosie Harper."

The waitress didn't drop her professional smile. "I'm sorry, Miss, but I don't know your friend. The total is one hundred and nine thousand eight hundred dollars. If you're unable to pay, I'll have no choice but to call the police."

From the booth, Rosie watched the scene with delight. She was curious to see what Brenna would do. Would she grovel to the Barretts for help? Or would she work off the debt scrubbing dishes for a year? Or perhaps she would resort to a classic dine-and-dash, flexing the street smarts she was rumored to have?

Her fingers tightened around her phone as she silently recorded the scene.

Just then, Vivian and Sylvie sauntered toward Brenna's table. The commotion had also drawn the attention of nearby diners, who discreetly raised their phones, capturing the scene.

Vivian's eyes swept over Brenna with thinly veiled contempt. "Miss, if you can't afford to eat here, you really shouldn't have come here in the first place. This place is for the elite. You'd be better off at a restaurant more suited to your status."

Sylvie smirked and folded her arms. "The minimum spend here is ten grand. I doubt you make that in a month. Tell you what, my family's looking for someone to clean the toilets. Work for my family for a month, and I'll cover your bill. What do you say?"

Vivian let out a soft chuckle. "That's generous, Sylvie. If you'd rather not scrub toilets, Miss, I can pay for you instead. No cleaning necessary-just get on your knees and polish my shoes. Then I'll settle the bill for you."

Clicks echoed through the room as more people snapped photos, some already posting the drama online.

Seeing this, Rosie was very pleased. The people she had hired were doing their job perfectly, each capturing the scene and sharing it on social media.

She believed that soon enough, Brenna's name would be dragged through the mud, and neither the Harper family nor Ethan would want anything to do with her.

In an attempt to portray herself as the kind person who cleaned up the mess for Brenna later, Rosie sneaked out into the scorching heat, closely monitoring the chaos within.

Vivian turned to the waitress, reaching into her designer bag. "How much is her bill?" she asked, pulling out a thick stack of cash and dropping it onto the table. She looked at Brenna. "Do as we say, and we'll cover your bill."

The waitress answered promptly, "One hundred and nine thousand eight hundred dollars."

Brenna leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her eyes shifting between the two women before her. Judging by their outfits and attitudes, they were definitely from wealthy families-spoiled, entitled, and clearly here to target her. She hadn't offended them before, yet here they were, going out of their way to humiliate her. Someone was obviously pulling the strings behind the scenes. "Who do you think you are, barking in front of me? I don't even know you," she said.

Before either Sylvie or Vivian could respond, Brenna glanced toward the staircase. A tall man had just arrived, his presence instantly commanding the room. His eyes gleamed like polished obsidian beneath perfectly arched brows. He had a chiseled nose, thin yet defined lips, and a jawline so precise that it looked sculpted by a master artisan.

The man frowned as he surveyed the scene, his handsome face darkened by unmistakable displeasure. It was clear he had already pieced together what was happening.

And yet, even with such a stunning man in the room, Brenna remained unaffected. A handsome face wouldn't distract her from the fools still yapping in front of her.

Sylvie and Vivian, not seeing the man behind them, were fuming. Vivian, seething from Brenna's insult, raised her hand, ready to slap Brenna across the face.

But the next second, a firm hand gripped her wrist, stopping her. Vivian's breath caught as she turned sharply, ready to lash out-until her eyes locked onto the man holding her back. Her heart sank. Why was Ethan Mitchell here?

"E-Ethan?" she stammered.