He opened his mouth to say something, but a single look from me shut him down.
I grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair and turned to face the room.
"Something came up. I'm heading out. Enjoy the rest of your evening."
I paused at the door, glancing back at Brett. "Oh, and class rep? Don't bother inviting me to these little gatherings anymore."
I couldn't stomach another second of this.
Alberta's insufferable posturing made my skin crawl. But I wasn't about to waste my breath calling her out. This dinner—the social niceties, the face I'd saved for her—consider it my parting gift.
But as I passed her, she grabbed my arm.
"Mike." Her voice was saccharine. "Forgetting something?"
"What?"
"Your bill."
I stuck a finger in my ear, certain I'd misheard. "Alberta, did you hit your head on the way here?"
"They just said the whole tab is comped. What exactly am I paying for?"
She let out a cold, brittle laugh, her eyes dripping with contempt.
"It's comped because my husband has pull here. What does that have to do with you?"
She released my arm and sauntered toward the door, ripping the itemized receipt off the wall with a theatrical flourish.
"Tonight's total? Eight hundred thousand dollars. Twenty classmates. That's forty thousand each."
She turned, waving the paper at me like a verdict.
"I've covered everyone's share. Except yours."
"Forty thousand. Cash or card?"
Chester stepped forward quickly, clearing his throat. "Miss, about tonight's bill—"
I raised a hand, gently pulling him behind me, and leaned in close to Alberta.
"You're really set on making this difficult, aren't you?"
She tilted her chin up, eyes glittering with malice. "Absolutely."
"I was trying to be generous. For old times' sake. Letting you taste how the other half lives." Her lip curled. "But you just couldn't help yourself, could you? Had to act like you belonged."
She stepped closer, her perfume cloying.
"So now I'm going to teach you a lesson. Make you understand exactly what you are."
I didn't flinch. Didn't raise my voice.
I laughed.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Alberta, but we're nothing alike. I know exactly where I stand." I met her gaze, letting the smile fade. "You're the one who's confused."
The table erupted.
"Mike, seriously? You're still running your mouth?" One of the guys shook his head in disgust. "Looking down on Alberta? If you had any real money, you think she would've dumped your dead weight?"
"Her husband's worth hundreds of millions," another chimed in. "Your entire net worth probably wouldn't cover the change in his pocket."
"He's delusional. A clown playing pretend." Someone snickered. "If he actually tries to pay, nobody lend him a cent, got it?"
I ran my tongue across my teeth, then slowly turned to survey the room.
"Fascinating commentary, really. But here's the thing—I don't just look down on Alberta."
I let my gaze sweep across every face.
"I look down on all of you."
The room went dead silent.
"Because everyone at this table? You're garbage."
I don't do much socializing. But I understand basic decency.
From the moment I sat down, not one of these so-called classmates had mentioned a single genuine memory. Not one shared laugh from the old days. Instead, they'd spent the entire evening fawning over Alberta like trained seals.
People this shallow, this transactional—why should I bother saving their face?
The silence shattered. I became the target of every voice in the room.
Brett shot to his feet, slamming his palm on the table. "Mike Finch! Someone like you doesn't deserve to sit at the same table as us!" His face was mottled with rage. "Pay your bill and get the hell out!"
Alberta watched the chaos unfold, her smile deepening with every insult hurled my way.
She reached for a bottle of limited-edition Hennessy and poured ten glasses, filling each one to the brim.
"Mike." Her voice was honey laced with venom. "I understand that forty thousand is a lot to ask from a delivery boy."
