I was treating some friends to dinner at the private club my cousin owned. When we wrapped up, I waved over a server. "Just put it on Nick's tab."

The server nodded, but a manager I'd never seen stepped in to block her.

Wearing a smile that never reached her eyes, she said, "Sir, Bosco is a members-only establishment. We don't offer tabs."

I felt a flicker of irritation. "I'm the owner's cousin. Just let him know."

She let out a sharp, mocking laugh and slapped a bill onto the table. Eighty-eight thousand.

Exclusive suite atmosphere maintenance fee, ten thousand. High‑end social network filtration fee, twenty thousand. Spontaneous entertainment ambience enhancement fee, fifteen thousand. And a mess of other miscellaneous charges.

Since when did Nick's place dare to bleed customers dry like this?

"What's wrong? Can't pay and now you're trying to name‑drop?" She looked me up and down with an arrogant tilt of her chin. "I've seen plenty of our boss's relatives. Not one of them is as broke, pretentious, and shameless as you."

Right in front of her, I dialed Nick and put the call on speaker.

"Ten minutes," I said. "Make sure she disappears from my sight. Otherwise, I'm revoking your authorization for this club."

On the other end of the line, my cousin Nick Elton's voice carried a trace of panic. "Jeff, what's going on? Is there some kind of misunderstanding?"

"Misunderstanding?" I glanced at the manager named Tina Jordan beside me. She had her arms crossed, a cold smirk playing on her face, clearly enjoying the show. "Ask your manager what she did to me."

Nick and Tina started talking over the phone, her voice threaded with contemptuous excuses.

"Jeff, Tina was just following the rules… don't make things difficult for her. Dinner's on me—"

"Nick," I cut him off, "I didn't call to get a free meal. I called to let you know you need to deal with your staff."

Tina seemed to draw confidence from him, planning to snatch the phone right out of my hand.

"Sir," she said, her tone equal parts arrogant and certain, "my boss is kind-hearted and won't hold this against you. But the rules at Bosco can't be broken. Either you settle the bill now, or we'll have to ask you to calm down in the security room."

A few friends around us exchanged awkward glances, their faces betraying their embarrassment.

I had invited a few key industry partners tonight, hoping to show them the best of my cousin's club. Instead, my own dignity was being trampled first.

"Fine." I hung up and looked at Tina. "I'll pay the bill."

Her smirk deepened, triumphant, as if she had just won a battle.

Soon, Nick hurried over, a smile of apology plastered across his face, though his eyes darted nervously.

"Jeff, I'm sorry. Tina's new… she doesn't know better." He said it as he looped an arm around her waist, his posture intimate.

Tina wrapped her arm around his, addressing me not so much with an apology as with a declaration of territory.

"Nick is kind-hearted, but you can't take advantage of your relationship with him to run wild here. Bosco is Nick's labor of love—it's not a place for people like you to bully your way through."

Her words painted her as the heroic protector of both her lover and his business, while I became the shameless troublemaker.

I laughed, though it was more bitter than amused.

Nick's labor of love? Did she even know that this entire Bosco—from the brand to the décor, from the concept to the business model—was entirely my creation? Every single detail came from me.

Nick was merely the executor. Or perhaps, the mascot I had shoved into the spotlight.

Seeing him look at her with a mix of helplessness and indulgence sent a chill through me.

When did my cousin become so utterly clueless?

…

"Since you insist on keeping everything strictly professional, then let's go through this eighty-eight thousand bill in detail," I said. I didn't look at Nick, my gaze locked firmly on Tina.

She hadn't expected me to actually pay, let alone question her, but she maintained that same air of superiority, arms still crossed, smirk intact.

"We at Bosco price everything transparently. If you don't understand, it only proves your level isn't high enough."

Tina waved her hand, signaling the servers to lead us to the lounge area in the main hall.

People moved around us—guests who had come to spend tonight.

She intended to humiliate me in front of everyone.

One of my friends couldn't stand it and spoke up, "Jeff, maybe we should leave. I'll cover this."

I raised a hand to stop him. This wasn't about the cost of a single meal anymore.

Tina clipped that ridiculous bill onto a display stand and placed it on the coffee table. Her voice was neither loud nor soft, yet every word carried clearly to the surrounding tables.

"Exclusive suite atmosphere maintenance fee, ten thousand. Every private suite at Bosco has had its magnetic field calibrated by a geomancy expert to ensure the client's luck flows during business discussions. It's metaphysics. You may not understand it, but many are willing to pay for it.

"High-end social network filtration service fee, twenty thousand. Entry to Bosco is limited to the wealthy and powerful. We've blocked countless pretenders and filtered out potential trouble and risk for you. Isn't that worth the fee?"

"And this—spontaneous entertainment ambience enhancement fee. Tonight, top musicians performed outside your suite, adjusting their improvisation to the pace of your conversation. That's the value of art."

With each item she recited, murmurs rose from nearby tables. Eyes turned to me, curious, disdainful. I appeared as some clown trying to break into high society without enough money to buy a ticket.

Nick stood nearby, his face pale. He opened his mouth several times but was silenced by Tina's sharp glances. He just watched as his woman humiliated me in front of everyone, as if passing judgment.

The last thread of familial affection I had for him was almost gone.

"Finished?" I asked calmly, waiting for her to conclude.

Tina crossed her arms, chin lifted. "Finished. So, will you pay now? Don't waste any more of our business time."

"Sure," I said, nodding, pulling out my phone. "But I don't carry that much cash. My assistant will bring it."

She snorted. "Here we go again. Stalling?"

"You can choose not to believe me." I dialed my assistant. "Bring 300 thousand in cash to Bosco, immediately."

I deliberately emphasized the words: 300 thousand.

Tina's pupils constricted, and then a greedy glint sparked in her eyes. She probably assumed I was intimidated, ready to pay to smooth things over, to quiet the storm. Her gaze toward me sharpened with a hint of condescension, like looking at a fool.

"You're smart," she whispered close to my ear, just loud enough for me to hear. "Anything extra, I'll consider it the cost for offending Nick today."

…

My assistant was efficient, as always.

In less than twenty minutes, two men in black suits arrived at the club entrance, each carrying a cash box. Every eye in the lobby turned toward them.

The boxes were opened, revealing stacks of crisp bills, neatly arranged, gleaming under the chandelier.

The crowd that had been pointing and whispering moments ago went silent.

Tina's breathing grew heavier. Her eyes were fixed on the money.

Even Nick was stunned, mouth open in disbelief.

"Jeff, what are you doing? This isn't necessary—"

"Necessary or not isn't up to you," I cut him off coolly.

I signaled my assistant to push one of the boxes toward Tina.

"Eighty-eight thousand. Count it."

Her face flickered with embarrassment, but greed quickly overrode it. She actually extended her hand, pretending to carefully go through the bills.

Tina's smug, self-satisfied look made my skin crawl.

I ignored her and turned to my guests, offering an apologetic smile.

"Everyone, I'm terribly sorry for the spectacle tonight. Let me take care of all tonight's expenses. Also, I have a hot spring villa on the outskirts of the city. Next weekend, please come by and relax. Consider it my way of making amends."

These were sharp, discerning people. They immediately understood that I was reclaiming face while subtly asserting my power. They all accepted politely, and the atmosphere eased noticeably.

After seeing my friends off, the hall was left with just me, Nick, and Tina, still hunched over her cash-counting.

Nick finally lost his restraint and came over, taking my hand.

"Jeff, don't do this. Let's go home and talk, okay? Don't be mad at me."

I pulled my hand away and looked at his face, a face that suddenly felt utterly alien.

"Nick, the moment you let her humiliate me in public, you should have realized—we're never going back."

"I didn't, I…" he stammered, desperate to defend himself.

Tina finally finished counting the money. She snapped the box shut, standing tall with a self-satisfied smirk, cutting him off.

"Nick, what's there to say to him? The money's paid. It's settled. People like your poor relative shouldn't come around—it only lowers Bosco's standards."

She looped her arm through his and gave me a provocative glance.

"Oh, and by the way," she said, pointing at the remaining box, "the other 212 thousand covers my emotional distress and apology fees for Nick. I won't be shy. I'm taking it all."

She reached for the box.

"Stop," I said coldly.

Two of my bodyguards stepped forward, blocking her path.

Her face shifted. "What? Changing your mind?"

"Not exactly," I said, walking up to her, looking down from above. "I just want you to know—you can take the money, but I doubt you can spend it."

My assistant handed me a document and a pen at the right moment.

"What's this?" Tina asked, wary.

"A receipt confirmation," I said plainly. "Sign here to acknowledge receipt of the 300 thousand. Once you sign, the transaction is complete. Otherwise, not a penny leaves here."

Tina eyed the paper suspiciously but skimmed it. It listed every single "charge" from today, plus the extra "emotional distress" and "apology" fees—clear, itemized, and precise. To her, it was just a formality.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the pen and signed her name.

She tossed the document back to me, triumphant, ready to lift the remaining box.

"Now, the money's mine," she said.

"Is it?" I murmured, pocketing the signed paper. A cold curve tugged at the corner of my mouth.

I pulled out my phone, ignoring them both, and dialed another number.

The call connected, and I said, "Proceed."

…

Tina was still lost in the ecstasy of acquiring the fortune and paid no attention to my call. She carried a box in each hand, 300 thousand in total, grinning from ear to ear.

"Nick, let's go! I'll take you to buy that car you liked last time!" she said, brimming with excitement.

But Nick's face showed no joy—only deep unease. He looked at me, lips moving as if to speak, but in the end, nothing came out.

Just as Tina was about to lead him out of Bosco, the club's main doors were slammed open from the outside.

A group of men and women in matching black uniforms, faces stern, walked in.