Paid to Disappear on His Proposal Night - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
You are reading Paid to Disappear on His Proposal Night, Chapter 8: Chapter 8. Read more chapters of Paid to Disappear on His Proposal Night.
Courtney clung to Darryl's arm, a smug grin curling her lips. "Darryl, why don't we just let her stay? You ordered enough to feed an army—we'll never finish it all. Might as well toss her the scraps. I bet she's never stepped foot in a place like this before. And food this expensive? Probably a once-in-a-lifetime treat for someone like her."
"Always so generous, Courtney," Darryl sneered, shooting me a look dripping with contempt. "Fine, whatever. Let's do it." Arm in arm, they strutted back to their table, throwing glances my way like they were waiting for me to crack.
I kept my cool. But then something unexpected happened.
Dish after lavish dish started arriving—not at their table, but mine.
Darryl's smirk twisted into confusion as the plates piled up in front of me. When the chef himself walked out with another course, Darryl finally snapped.
"Hey! You the chef?" he barked. "There's been a mistake! These are our dishes! Why the hell are they going to her? She didn't order anything! And where's the rest of our food?" He planted his hands on his hips, puffing up like an angry rooster. "Is service here always this pathetic? Get these over to our table—now."
The chef didn't flinch. "Actually, I came out to inform you that your order has been canceled."
"What?!" Darryl's face went slack. "Why?"
"Because I don't serve rude, entitled people—especially ones who insult my daughter."
Darryl's eyes darted between me and the chef, then he burst out laughing. "Oh, so he's your dad? I thought your dad was some broke bun vendor. Now he's a chef? Wait—"
His grin turned vicious. "Don't tell me he's your sugar daddy. Seriously, June? A chef? That's the best you could do?"
He turned on my father, sneering. "And you—some nobody line cook in someone else's restaurant—how dare you act like you own the place? Who the hell do you think you are, talking back to paying customers? Some washed-up loser with a side piece—or are you just so desperate you've never even had a wife?"
"That's enough." My dad's fists clenched, his whole body trembling with barely contained fury. If we weren't in public, Darryl would've been on the floor already.
"Oh, tough guy now?" Darryl taunted. "Newsflash—the customer's always right. Keep this up, and I'll make sure your boss fires your sorry ass."
Just then, a waitress hurried past. Darryl grabbed her arm. "Get your manager. Now. I'm reporting this fraud."
The poor girl looked petrified, eyes darting between my dad and Darryl. My father gently waved her off and pulled out his phone.
Darryl crossed his arms, smug as ever, like he'd already won.
Then the manager arrived—and didn't even glance at him. Instead, he faced my father with deep respect.
"How can I assist you, sir?"
Darryl's jaw hit the floor. "Sir?!"
Ignoring him, my dad spoke calmly. "Take a good look at these two. They're banned from every one of my restaurants. We don't serve people with no class."
The manager nodded and motioned firmly to the door. "Please leave. Immediately."
Darryl lost it, screaming about conspiracies and demanding to see the "real" owner. Meanwhile, my dad turned to the other diners with an apologetic smile.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my sincerest apologies for the disruption. Let me introduce myself—I own this restaurant. Cooking's my passion, so I work in the kitchen part-time. My specialty? Lobster-filled buns."
A ripple of laughter spread through the room.
"They're so good, my daughter used to take them to school—even shared them with her ex over there. Too bad he assumed I was just some street vendor and started treating her like dirt. While dating her, he cheated with that woman—" He gestured to Courtney. "—then proposed to her."
"Tonight, my daughter came here to enjoy a meal, only to run into him. As her father, I couldn't stand by while he humiliated her. So I stepped in."
He raised a hand. "To make up for the disturbance—and to celebrate her finally being free of him—dinner tonight is on the house."
The room erupted in applause. Darryl, red-faced and sputtering, was dragged out by the manager, Courtney scrambling after him.
"Always so generous, Courtney," Darryl sneered, shooting me a look dripping with contempt. "Fine, whatever. Let's do it." Arm in arm, they strutted back to their table, throwing glances my way like they were waiting for me to crack.
I kept my cool. But then something unexpected happened.
Dish after lavish dish started arriving—not at their table, but mine.
Darryl's smirk twisted into confusion as the plates piled up in front of me. When the chef himself walked out with another course, Darryl finally snapped.
"Hey! You the chef?" he barked. "There's been a mistake! These are our dishes! Why the hell are they going to her? She didn't order anything! And where's the rest of our food?" He planted his hands on his hips, puffing up like an angry rooster. "Is service here always this pathetic? Get these over to our table—now."
The chef didn't flinch. "Actually, I came out to inform you that your order has been canceled."
"What?!" Darryl's face went slack. "Why?"
"Because I don't serve rude, entitled people—especially ones who insult my daughter."
Darryl's eyes darted between me and the chef, then he burst out laughing. "Oh, so he's your dad? I thought your dad was some broke bun vendor. Now he's a chef? Wait—"
His grin turned vicious. "Don't tell me he's your sugar daddy. Seriously, June? A chef? That's the best you could do?"
He turned on my father, sneering. "And you—some nobody line cook in someone else's restaurant—how dare you act like you own the place? Who the hell do you think you are, talking back to paying customers? Some washed-up loser with a side piece—or are you just so desperate you've never even had a wife?"
"That's enough." My dad's fists clenched, his whole body trembling with barely contained fury. If we weren't in public, Darryl would've been on the floor already.
"Oh, tough guy now?" Darryl taunted. "Newsflash—the customer's always right. Keep this up, and I'll make sure your boss fires your sorry ass."
Just then, a waitress hurried past. Darryl grabbed her arm. "Get your manager. Now. I'm reporting this fraud."
The poor girl looked petrified, eyes darting between my dad and Darryl. My father gently waved her off and pulled out his phone.
Darryl crossed his arms, smug as ever, like he'd already won.
Then the manager arrived—and didn't even glance at him. Instead, he faced my father with deep respect.
"How can I assist you, sir?"
Darryl's jaw hit the floor. "Sir?!"
Ignoring him, my dad spoke calmly. "Take a good look at these two. They're banned from every one of my restaurants. We don't serve people with no class."
The manager nodded and motioned firmly to the door. "Please leave. Immediately."
Darryl lost it, screaming about conspiracies and demanding to see the "real" owner. Meanwhile, my dad turned to the other diners with an apologetic smile.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my sincerest apologies for the disruption. Let me introduce myself—I own this restaurant. Cooking's my passion, so I work in the kitchen part-time. My specialty? Lobster-filled buns."
A ripple of laughter spread through the room.
"They're so good, my daughter used to take them to school—even shared them with her ex over there. Too bad he assumed I was just some street vendor and started treating her like dirt. While dating her, he cheated with that woman—" He gestured to Courtney. "—then proposed to her."
"Tonight, my daughter came here to enjoy a meal, only to run into him. As her father, I couldn't stand by while he humiliated her. So I stepped in."
He raised a hand. "To make up for the disturbance—and to celebrate her finally being free of him—dinner tonight is on the house."
The room erupted in applause. Darryl, red-faced and sputtering, was dragged out by the manager, Courtney scrambling after him.
End of Paid to Disappear on His Proposal Night Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to Paid to Disappear on His Proposal Night book page.