Chapter 444 Dinner at the Top

“You might even get a nice chunk of compensation out of it.”

Both of the girls fell silent at the remark.

Una was just joking, but Andy looked dead serious.

“Alright, let’s go, ladies. I cleared my schedule just to show you around. I’ll be your host for the next few days.”

Tilda gave him a faint smile. “Fine. Let’s see if this city you keep bragging about is really that much fun.”

Andy threw an arm around Tilda and the other around Una, strutting down the street like a king surrounded by his queens.

The sight drew plenty of stares–some envious, some bitter, depending on who was looking.

Andy drove his BMW through the busiest part of the city, showing his guests around with pride.

Una peeked out the window at the endless stream of traffic and luxury cars. She grumbled, “Jeselton really is dazzling. I’ve lost count of how many high-end cars I’ve seen. Even the license plates look like they cost a fortune.”

Andy smirked. “This city never runs out of rich folks or power players. Jeselton is the center of it all. The country’s best talent gathers here.”

He paused a little before he declared, “Alright, we’re here.”

Andy pulled into an underground garage and parked. The three of them took the elevator all the way up to the top floor.

“This,” Andy said with pride, “is Jeselton’s most famous restaurant–George Madron. It’s a chain named after the founder. The specialty is Yvoria cuisine. It tastes good. You’ll like it.”

Andy finished his introduction. When the elevator doors slid open, they were greeted by sheer luxury.

A crystal chandelier, nearly fifteen feet wide, hung from the center of the hall, turning slowly.

Inside it, countless tiny bulbs sparkled, their light bouncing off the mirrored glass, casting a dazzling glow across the room.

The marble floor stretched beneath a red carpet, leading toward the dining area. From the 50th floor, the glass walls revealed the glittering skyline of the city at night.

Red roses were placed with care, candlelight flickered on every table, and each spot carried a small nameplate engraved with the restaurant’s brand. Every detail was polished to perfection.

A waiter scanned Andy’s reservation code, then bowed slightly and led the three of them to their table.

“Order whatever you want, don’t hold back. The next few days, it’s on me. Eat all you want. Waiter, bring us a bottle of ’82 Lafite.”

“Yes, sir.”

Una smiled. “No wonder you’re a top lawyer. You talk like someone who’s used to big spending. Tilda, I’ve never had Yvoria cuisine before. Can you help me pick something good?”

Andy advised, “If you’re not sure about the taste, just go with their house specials. Those are always safe.”

Tilda chimed in, “I haven’t had Yvoria food. Let’s try their top recommendation.”

“Okay, then I’ll order the same as Tilda.”

Andy propped his chin on one hand and said pitifully, “This restaurant is great, but compared to your cooking, Tilda, it’s nothing. I wish I could…”

Tilda gave a helpless shrug. “Fine. When I have time, I’ll cook something myself for you all.”

“Yeah! Nothing better than having Tilda cook for us. I’ve missed it so much.”

“Same here!”

Andy and Una’s eyes lit up as they stared at Tilda.

She smiled affectionately at the two.

Sigh! What did I do to deserve these two!

Just then–

“Dammit!” someone shouted.

The group turned toward the sound.

Tilda caught sight of a figure she thought she recognized.

This woman…

Her mind raced, searching for the memory.

Then it clicked.

The one who cursed out loud was a middle-aged woman, dressed in a limited edition Hermes winter fur coat, black stockings, and high heels.

Her hair was curled into big waves, her face heavy with makeup. She wore two gold bangles on her wrist, and her earrings were set with large pearls. She gave off the look of someone who had money but no class.

Right now her face was twisted in disgust.

The noise had startled the manager, who rushed over. “Ma’am, is something wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Look at this!” she snapped. “Why is there a fly in my pasta? That’s gross! What kind of hygiene do you people have here?”

She jabbed her finger toward the fly in the plate and called out in disgust.

The whole time she spoke in a foreign language, but her words were choppy.

The accent slipped now and then into local slang, making it sound clumsy–almost comical. The manager stammered, “T–that’s impossible, ma’am. Every dish is inspected before leaving the kitchen. And our kitchen and dining area both passed the highest health standards–” “So you’re calling me a liar? How dare you!” She cut in, her voice sharp. “I heard this is one of the best restaurants in Jeselton. Do you know how long I waited to get a table here? I brought my friends to enjoy a nice meal, and this is what we get? And you still make excuses? Shame on you!”