Although business with the Curts family was doing well on the surface, the truth was more fragile. Every cent of profit was being funneled straight back into the company to keep operations alive. That was the only way they could maintain their momentum and avoid slipping into decline again.
Sanna still paid herself a salary, but it was modest, barely enough to cover their household expenses and the day-to-day necessities. Even Sheri had noticed the change. Her mother, who once adored filling her closet with luxury dresses and shelves with glittering trinkets, had stopped buying such things altogether.
The only time Sanna spent freely now was during events. Fundraisers, celebrations, business dinners, those occasions she could justify, because they tied directly back into the survival and reputation of the Curts family name.
But with the way tonight’s dinner was going, Sheri could already see the looming disaster. The bill would be enormous, and unlike her mother, she knew there was no way to politely ask their guests to contribute. It was against every rule of etiquette.
"Are you sure you haven’t had enough?" Sheri asked nervously, watching as Bobo raised another glass.
The Stern woman had ordered yet another of the most expensive wines, and she was happily pouring it for everyone else around the table, everyone except Max, who had declined from the very start. By now they had gone through three bottles, each one worth more than most people’s rent for a month. Combined with the food, the numbers were spiraling out of control.
At first, even Anton had looked hesitant, swirling the rich red liquid in his glass as though weighing its cost. But the longer the evening dragged on, the easier it became to forget about the money, especially when someone else was footing the bill. He, too, allowed himself to be swept up in the indulgence.
Across the table, Max leaned back, his sharp eyes following every move with quiet calculation.
Bobo Stern... what is it about me that irritates you so much?
He remembered the file he had seen on her. For all her prestige, she hadn’t turned a profit yet from the seed money she’d been given. It wasn’t unusual for the kind of research she was pursuing, but it still told him something important, she was vulnerable.
If I wanted to, how easily could I sweep everything out from under her feet? Could I take what she has and make it mine? Would it benefit the Bloodline group? Would it bring me closer to the answers I need?
He let his thoughts spiral further. If I rise in this so-called heir race, maybe I’ll earn the chance to stand face-to-face with Dennis himself. From there, I could dig into the truth of the White Tiger Gang. And most importantly... if I can strip Bobo of her resources, if I can take every ounce of her power for myself, my strength would grow exponentially.
Max’s lips curled faintly. Chad was no longer a threat, he had nothing. Moneyless, powerless, discarded. But Bobo? She was a wellspring waiting to be drained.
The meal wound down, though conversation had grown shallow and strained. Anton made no move to thank Max, and Bobo barely acknowledged him at all. The evening had dissolved into empty glasses and polite silence.
Then the bill arrived.
Sanna reached out with trembling fingers, her heart pounding as she unfolded the slip of paper. She stared at the number as if her eyes might be deceiving her. Sheri leaned closer, catching a glimpse, and her breath caught in her throat.
Fifty thousand. Over fifty thousand... for one meal.
Her stomach twisted. They had attended bigger dinners before, yes, but those had involved far more people. Tonight there were only a handful of guests. This wasn’t just extravagant, it was outrageous. And Sheri knew, without a shadow of doubt, that Bobo had done it deliberately.
Her mother bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Even her credit cards, already stretched to their limit, only allowed up to twenty-five thousand. There was simply no way she could cover this.
At most, Sanna had expected a bill of ten thousand, a ridiculous number in itself, but one she could at least manage. Fifty? It was unthinkable.
Sheri’s hand drifted unconsciously to the necklace around her neck. The precious gift from the Billion Bloodline group sparkled faintly under the lights. Selling it was the last thing she wanted to do, but if it came to it... perhaps it could be pawned, at least to recover what her mother would lose tonight. The thought made her chest ache, but desperation left little room for pride.
Meanwhile, downstairs, Mayson returned from a quick break, rubbing at his stomach. He muttered to one of the other servers as he passed.
"Thanks for covering for me. Bad idea eating that three-day-old pizza. Two days is fine, I’ve done it before, but three? Guess that’s the limit. Or maybe it depends on the toppings..."
"Please, Mayson," the other server groaned. "I don’t need to hear about your shitty pizza adventures. Pun intended."
Mayson only grinned faintly and kept walking. He had only greeted the guests at the start of the evening, and he figured it was polite to see them off as well. But when he passed the private room, something made him stop. He caught a glimpse inside, and his eyes widened.
No way... it’s him.
Pushing the door open, Mayson stepped inside. His gaze scanned the table, then locked onto the face he recognized. He strode straight to Sanna, gently plucking the bill from her hands before she could protest.
"Please, ma’am," he said with a reassuring smile. "There’s no need for you to worry about the bill tonight. The meal is on the house."
Sanna’s eyes widened in shock. "On the house? But... such a high bill, what for? We’ve never even done business here before!"
Mayson only shook his head, turning his smile toward Max. "Come on now. How could I possibly charge the boss’s friends?"