Chapter 28: I guess I did not hit you hard enough
"What is this?"
"Your bill, sir."
The waiter’s hands trembled as he placed the leather folder on the table. Inside was a printed, itemized receipt that stretched nearly two full pages. Every single dish, every bottle of vintage wine, every ounce of caviar they had ordered for the past two hours was listed in detail.
Tristan’s eyes dragged slowly down the page until they hit the total at the bottom.
"$45,800.00"
The entire VIP private dining room went dead silent. The laughter that had been bouncing off the walls only seconds earlier vanished like someone had cut the power.
And Tristan’s face turned a violent shade of dark red. The veins in his neck stood out like cords. He looked up at the waiter with pure, murderous disbelief.
"What the fuck is this?" he asked, voice low and dangerous.
The waiter took a nervous step back, "I... It’s your bill, sir."
"My bill?" Tristan’s voice suddenly exploded. He slammed his good fist onto the table so hard the entire surface jumped. A wine glass tipped over, shattered, and sprayed crimson across the white tablecloth.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?! Do you not know who I am?!" He glared at the waited with bloodhot eyes, "I am Tristan! My mother is Victoria, damnit! My mother fucking owns this entire hotel! Do I need to pay to eat in my own goddamn hotel?!"
The waiter looked like he was about to faint. Sweat poured down his temples.
"I know who you are, sir," he stammered. "I am just following instructions. I was told to present the bill. That’s all."
"Instructions from who?!" Tristan roared, rising halfway out of his chair. Spit flew from his lips. "Who the fuck told you to hand me a forty-five-thousand-dollar bill?!"
The waiter’s eyes darted toward the open double doors of the private room. His voice cracked.
"The floor manager, sir. He said if there was any problem... to call him immediately."
Tristan’s lips peeled back in a snarl, "Then call the bastard! Right now!"
The waiter didn’t need to be told twice. He practically sprinted to the intercom on the wall and pressed the button with shaking fingers. Within thirty seconds, heavy footsteps approached from the hallway.
A tall, silver-haired man in an immaculate black suit entered the room. His name tag read Marcus Hale - VIP Restaurant Manager. His expression was calm and professional, and he looked completely unimpressed by the chaos at the table.
He stopped a few feet away, folded his hands behind his back, and spoke in a calm, measured voice that somehow cut through the tension like a knife.
"Master Tristan. I apologize for the interruption. The bill is correct. All complimentary accounts have been permanently closed as of ten minutes ago."
Tristan stared at him like the man had just spoken in a foreign language, "What the fuck did you just say?"
Marcus however did not flinch. He remained as calm as the ocean as he divulged into detail, "An emergency directive was issued from the top-floor boardroom this afternoon."
"Madam Vistoria is no longer the single largest shareholder of the board."
"The new majority shareholder has implemented immediate policy changes. All complimentary tabs - for employees, executives, board members, and their families - are cancelled without exception. Every bill must be paid in full. No exceptions. No appeals."
"That includes you as well, Master Tristein." Marcus paused for a brief second, then added in the same polite, professional tone.
"For the record, the actual total came to forty-five thousand eight hundred and seven dollars and thirty-six cents. We rounded it down to forty-five thousand eight hundred... as a small family discount. Compliments of the hotel."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Tristan’s brain short-circuited. What the fuck was this asshole saying? He could not undderstand anything except that his mother’s authority... has been overridden?
Some new shareholder had walked in and cut off his free ride like he was a regular customer? And now they were offering him a seven-dollar-and-thirty-six-cent "family discount" like it was some kind of generous gesture?
What the hell is wrong with everyone?
And what is wrong with his mother?
How can she let this happen?
Every word of Marcus was like a humiliation that burned through his chest like acid. In front of every single person at the table who has been treating him like royalty for the past teo hours.
What face does he have left?
And suddenly he snapped. He didn’t think twice. He didn’t speak again. He simply snapped.
Tristan grabbed the half-empty bottle of 1982 Chateau Lafite still sitting on the table and with a wordless scream of pure rage, he swung it in a vicious arc.
SMASH!
Tristein aimed straight for the waited and the glass bottle smashed into the side of the waiter’s face with a sickening, wet sound, CLEQCH!
The waiter’s head snapped sideways and blood exploded from a deep gash across his cheek and poured down his white collar.
AGGHH! The waited instantly collapsed to the floor with a scream of pure agony twisting and turning on the floor like a fish out of water, with sound effects.
"Eeeghh!" The girls at the table shrieked ad jumkped back. Emily covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide with genuine horror. Chloe flinched so hard she nearly fell out of Roy’s lap.
"Fuck your new rules!" Tristan screamed, standing over the bleeding waiter with the broken bottle still in his hand.
"Who the fuck dare decide what I do or don’t?" Tristein screamed, kicking the waited in the gut, "Huh?"
"Bring that shareholder here," Tristein leaned in to angrily look Marcus in the eye, "I will let him suck this..." Tristein grabbbed his crotch and shook it in his face.
Wine and blood dripped onto the marble floor. "And fuck the new management! My mother runs this board! I make the rules in this hotel! Get this piece of shit out of my sight before I cave his fucking skull in!"
The waiter scrambled backward on all fours, clutching his ruined face, and fled through the open doors in pure terror.
Marcus, however, did not move. He simply stared at Tristan with quiet, glacial contempt, as if watching a spoiled child throw a tantrum over a seven-dollar discount.
Tristan’s chest heaved. He dropped the broken bottle onto the table with a heavy thud and straightened his blood-speckled suit jacket, trying to reclaim some dignity in front of his audience.
The room remained frozen.
Then Roy started clapping. Slow. Loud. Deliberate.
"That," Roy said, stepping forward and clapping a heavy hand on Tristan’s good shoulder, "That is exactly how you handle the help. You don’t let anyone disrespect you. You show them exactly who the boss is."
The other guys at the table immediately jumped in, nodding and murmuring approval.
"Total alpha move."
"That waiter had it coming."
"Nobody talks to Tristan like that in his own hotel."
Chloe, still looking slightly pale, played with her hair as she looked Tristein up and down with a smile, "Honestly... It was kind of hot."
Roy smirked and reached into his inner jacket pocket. He pulled out a sleek black titanium credit card that practically radiated money and tossed it onto the $45,800 bill with casual arrogance.
"Listen, Tristan," Roy said, loud enough for every girl at the table to hear. "If this new management wants to play games, I can drop the forty-five grand right now. It’s pocket change. Consider it my treat. No need for you to even look at the bill."
It was a deliberate power move. Roy was flexing hard, trying to steal the spotlight and make Tristan look weak in his own territory.
Tristan’s face twisted. His ego was already shredded by the lobby disaster earlier that day and now further crushed by a seven-dollar "family discount" could not handle being bailed out by another man in front of everyone.
He snatched the black card off the table and shoved it hard into Roy’s chest.
"Keep your fucking money, Roy," Tristan snarled. "Nobody disrespects me in my hotel. I don’t care who this new majority shareholder thinks he is. I dare anyone in this entire building to walk through those doors and force me to pay this bill."
He turned toward the open doorway, chest puffed out, voice rising into a full-volume roar that echoed down the hallway.
"I am royalty here! Nobody can touch me! You hear me?! Nobody!"
The silence that followed was thick and heavy.
Then a deep, utterly ruthless voice drifted in from the dark hallway outside, calm and cold as a blade sliding between ribs.
"Is that so?"
Footsteps approached. Slow. Measured. Unhurried.
"Then I guess I didn’t hit you hard enough the first time."
** ** ** ** **
[A/N: Here’s something for my motivation. Hehehe... Starting every Monday]
[250 Power Stones: 5 Bonus Chapters Next Week]
[150 Golden Tickets: 5 Bonus Chapters Next Week]
[1 Massage Chair: 2 Bonus Chapters Next Week]
[1 Luxury car: 5 Bonus Chapters Next Week]
[1 Dragon: 10 Bonus Chapters Next Week]
[1 Magic Castle: 20 Bonus Chapters Next Week]
[I don’t expect anything more than a Magic castle. Hahaha.]