I Owned His Restaurant But He Robbed Me

I had just pushed back from the table in my brother's private dining room, ready to head out.

A female manager in a sharp suit cut me off before I could take two steps.

Her face was plastered with that generic corporate smile.

But her eyes? Pure, undiluted contempt.

"Madam," she said, her voice slick as ice. "You seem to have forgotten something." She turned her tablet toward me. The number on the screen made my breath hitch.

I arched a brow.

I owned seventy percent of this place. My bills always went through the internal account. Clearly, the new manager didn't know who I was.

"Put it on Mr. Beniere's account," I said, my voice even. "He'll take care of it."

Her lips curled into a nasty smirk. "This is a Michelin Three-Star establishment. We don't run tabs."

She thrust a printed bill at me, her fingers pressing down so hard the paper nearly ripped.

I skimmed the items. Private room view fee: eighty grand. Chef's 'special inspiration' fee: one hundred twenty thousand. They'd even charged thirty thousand for 'tableware maintenance.' This wasn't a bill—it was a shakedown.

A dry laugh escaped me. "Get Mr. Beniere down here. Now. I'm his sister."

That's when she stepped closer, her expensive perfume washing over me. "Cut the act," she hissed. "I know exactly who you are."

Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Caleb Beniere has your picture in his phone. He video calls you every single night."

My eyes flicked to her name badge: Chloe Valentine.

So. This was the girlfriend my brother had been sneaking around with.

"Finally scared, huh?" she taunted, mistaking my silence for fear. "You had the nerve to mess with my man. Now you face the consequences."

She raised her voice sharply. "Security! We have a dine-and-dasher!"

Two massive guards materialized, each grabbing one of my arms. I tried to pull free, but their grips were like vices.

"Take her to the back to… cool her heels," Chloe said with a cold laugh. "We'll let the police sort this out."

I was half-dragged toward the service area. The staff we passed kept their eyes glued to the floor. They'd seen this routine before.