"For old times' sake—since you did help me once—I'll return the favor."

Alberta placed her stiletto on the stool, then gestured toward the ten glasses of liquor lined up on the table.

"You have two choices."

"One: kneel down, lick my shoe, and admit you're a pathetic fraud."

"Two: down all ten glasses in one go, then slap yourself across the face ten times."

"Pick one and follow through, and I'll cover your forty-thousand-dollar tab. Fair enough?"

Whistles and applause erupted around the room.

They all wanted to watch me crumble—to see me grovel at Alberta's feet like I had four years ago.

I'd intended to let us both walk away with some dignity. But Alberta and these so-called classmates kept pushing, kept prodding.

A kept woman playing socialite, and she thought she could look down on me?

Fine. If words wouldn't get through, I'd flip the whole damn table.

I swept my gaze across the room and let three words drop like ice:

"Ten minutes."

"Ten minutes for what?" Alberta demanded.

I ignored her and turned to Chester.

Chester glanced at his phone, then gave me a slight bow.

"Mr. Finch, I've notified the owner. He says he'll be here in ten minutes with Mr. Pruitt to personally apologize."

"Oh, and he mentioned he's willing to offer that hundred-acre parcel on the city outskirts—in exchange for Ms. Fox's life."

Dead silence.

Then the room exploded into laughter.

"Is this loser so broke he's gone delusional? He actually thinks Alberta's husband is coming to apologize to him—and throw in some land? Who believes this crap?"

"Oh, I believe it! The man's clearly on death's door. Might as well humor him, right?"

"I heard some rich kid messed with Alberta once, and Mr. Pruitt had his hands and feet broken before dumping him outside Harbor City. Wonder how many pieces our delivery boy here will have left after tonight!"

Soaking in the flattery, Alberta's arrogance reached new heights.

"Mike, I strongly suggest you do what I said—quickly. Because once my husband finds out about this little stunt? You're finished."

I pulled out a chair, sat down, and crossed my legs. One corner of my mouth lifted as I regarded her.

"And if your husband finds out? What then?"

"A man who sits in the back row at every business summit in Harbor City—you really think he has the nerve to touch me?"

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room.

Alberta's face twisted with fury at having Francis's status laid bare. She shrieked at me:

"What the hell does a delivery driver know?! My husband just became sworn brothers with the heir of Apex Holdings! He's not the man he used to be!"

"Do you have any idea who the Apex heir is? Power beyond measure! Above everyone else! With backing like that, crushing a nobody like you is nothing!"

I rested my chin on my hand, studying her with mild amusement.

"And how do you know I'm not the one with power beyond measure? The one above everyone else?"

"Alberta... after all these years, do you really know me? Do you have any idea who I am?"

She let out a derisive snort, as if I'd told the world's funniest joke.

"You? Above everyone else?"

"Have you forgotten? The only reason I chose Francis over you was because you were a broke nobody. And clearly, I made the right call—you're not just poor, you're delusional."

"Oh, I get it now." Her eyes narrowed. "You've been carrying a grudge all these years because I rejected you. That's why you're here tonight, isn't it? To cause trouble?"

A grudge?

She really did think too highly of herself.

My brow furrowed. I looked at her the way one might look at a child who'd said something profoundly stupid.

"You really think highly of yourself, don't you? You're not even worth—"

"Enough!"

Alberta's shriek cut me off, her eyes dripping with contempt.

"Mike Finch, I never imagined you'd still be running your mouth when you're about to be destroyed."

"I'm done wasting my breath on you. Get on your knees, bow three times, and get out. Let's pretend we never knew each other."

I blinked, then shook my head with a quiet laugh.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm still waiting for your husband's apology—and those hundred acres."

That was the last straw. The classmates around the table couldn't hold back anymore.

"Alberta, since this bottom-feeder doesn't appreciate your kindness, why bother showing him any?"

"Besides, he humiliated Mr. Pruitt in front of everyone! He needs to be taught a lesson!"

"Just say the word, Alberta! We'll hold his head down and make him bow ourselves!"

These sycophants weren't about to miss a chance to prove their loyalty. One after another, they urged Alberta to let them handle me by force.

Alberta pressed her lips together, then slowly nodded.

"Anyone who lays hands on him tonight gets a hundred thousand dollars."

Several burly classmates shot to their feet, ready to force me to my knees.

Chester saw the situation turning and immediately stepped in front of me.

I glanced at my phone, then held up one finger.

"Fine. I'll remember every one of you. But I should warn you—you have one minute left."

Alberta froze for a second, then burst into wild, mocking laughter.

"What, you think in one minute my husband's going to walk through that door and take your side over mine? Side with some pathetic loser?"

"You really won't cry until you see your own coffin, will you?" She waved her hand dismissively. "What are you waiting for? Get him!"

The men lunged forward.

At that exact moment, the private room door was kicked open from outside with a deafening crash.

"Everyone—STOP!"

It was Damien Cross, the owner of Pinecrest Pavilion.

And right behind him stood Alberta's husband, Francis Pruitt.