He Thought the Food Was Free, I Made Sure the Lesson Wasn’t Chapter 03

He Thought the Food Was Free, I Made Sure the Lesson Wasn’t Chapter 03

I walked straight to the entrance and hung up the sign: PRIVATE PARTY — CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC.

Then I went to the kitchen and gave the head chef the order:

“Derek Hartley’s party. Private booking. Everything he asked for—lobster, king crab, caviar, wagyu, truffle. The full spread. Liquor’s top-shelf bourbon only. Pappy if we’ve still got bottles back there. Line them up on every table. Don’t hold anything back.”

The head chef blinked. “Boss, that’s a massive order. You sure he can pay for all that?”

I kept my expression neutral. “He ordered it. We just serve it.”

He saw the look on my face and didn’t push it. Just turned around and started organizing the prep.

The kitchen roared to life. The clatter of woks and the chop of cleavers filled the air. Thick, rich smells drifted into the dining room.

Derek’s crowd sat sprawled in their chairs, legs crossed, cracking peanuts, shouting across tables, “Hurry up with the food already! People are starving!”

The dishes started rolling out.

Lobster. King crab legs. Truffle-infused wagyu tartare. Every plate was meticulously arranged, each one looking more expensive than the last.

The waiters hauled out cases of Pappy Van Winkle and set bottles on every table.

Derek’s friends stared at the spread, eyes bulging, “Holy shit. He actually did it. Derek, you’re insane, man.”

“I’m taking photos. Nobody’s gonna believe this.”

“I’m officially a Derek stan for life. This is legendary.”

The relatives piled on, “Good lord, I’ve only ever seen king crab and wagyu on TV. Never thought I’d actually taste it.”

“People always said Derek was gonna make it big. Looks like they were right.”

“So young and already so generous! He’s going places, this one.”

Derek practically floated on the praise. He stood up, glass in hand, chest puffed out, “Friends, family—eat up, drink up. You want more, order more. Tonight’s on me. Don’t hold back.”

A cheer went up. Everyone raised their glasses.

“To Derek! May every year be better than the last!”

Derek soaked it all in. He’d never felt this big, this important.

He thumped his chest and made a grand declaration to the entire room, “From now on, any time you wanna eat out, you come here. Just drop my name—Derek Hartley. Everything goes on my tab. You don’t pay a dime.”

That lit them up. A fresh wave of flattery swelled around him, “Derek’s a real one!”

“We’re rolling with Derek from now on!”

Derek’s grin stretched ear to ear. He drifted toward the front counter, riding the wave of praise, and leaned in close. His voice dropped low, meant only for me, “Claire. You love money so much, right? You love counting every penny? Well tonight, I’m going to drain this place dry. Let’s see what your cheap ass does about it.”