“The program won’t cover this,” Adam reminded me, his voice laced with concern.
I nodded calmly. “I don’t plan on asking them to. Besides, they couldn’t afford it.”
This wasn’t just any restaurant. It was one of the most exclusive establishments in the country—and even internationally renowned. Just stepping inside cost 10,000 dollars per person. Breathing the air here practically came with a surcharge.
As we approached the entrance, a uniformed receptionist stepped forward. “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”
My sister didn’t seem surprised. She clung to my arm and looked around curiously, wide-eyed but trusting.
Adam, on the other hand, looked like he was starting to regret everything. He was visibly tense behind us, mentally calculating the costs. I should’ve stayed in the car, he was probably thinking.
Meanwhile, the program crew was practically in a meltdown. They’d been told an investor wanted me in the show, but no one had told them that the investor was me. Now they were nervously wondering who’d foot the bill for this outrageous meal.
I handed over a sleek black card.
The receptionist took one glance, then her entire demeanor changed. She bowed slightly and gestured inside with practiced grace. “Ms. Hartman, this way please.”
[Wait. Did they just… let her in like that?]
[What kind of card was that? No way that was a black card?!]
[She just walked into a top-floor private room. The kind you can’t even book with money.]
[Hold up… is she actually a rich woman?!]
Adam caught up with me, still trying to keep his cool.
“What was that card? They let in the three of us plus the cameramen. That’s six people—almost 60,000 dollars. You’re seriously…”
I passed him the card. “Just a business card,” I said lightly. “Sometimes, your name opens more doors than money ever could.”
Not only did I bring in the crew filming us, I also arranged for the rest of the program staff to have their own private dining room.
A few minutes later, my sister tugged my sleeve. “Sister, Sister Paula just messaged me asking where we are. She says she wants to treat us.”
I smiled. “Send her the location. Whether she comes or not is her choice.”
Across from me, Adam surveyed the table full of exquisitely plated dishes. He gave me a thumbs-up. “You’re seriously loaded.”
The meal alone would’ve cleared six figures.
I just raised a brow and smiled. Wealth is the most boring thing about me—but also the most useful.
Eventually, Paula and Clark showed up—but not before the restaurant manager personally came into the room.
“Ms. Hartman, there are two guests at the entrance who claim to be with your party,” he said politely.
I took a sip of my chilled nutrition shake and replied coolly, “Ah, they’re here to pay.”
The manager immediately understood. “I’ll handle it.”
By the time Paula and Clark finally walked in, the meal was over.
“You paid with your own money, didn’t you?” Paula asked sharply, unable to hide her frustration.
Apparently, they’d been told the bill for the two of them was 20,000 dollars. To them, it must’ve felt like daylight robbery.
“It’s useless to speculate,” I said as I waited for the valet to bring my car around.
Paula wasn’t done. “If it wasn’t your money, then the program team must’ve covered it. That’s really unfair. They might cover costs sometimes, but a restaurant like this? It’s way over budget.”
I tilted my head. “You think this place is expensive?”
Paula hesitated, trying to sound reasonable. “I get it—you want to experience the high life. But the show has limits. You really should write an IOU. The team has been good to you. You could pay it back slowly.”
At that moment, Adam finally spoke, his tone firm. “Paula, Cara didn’t pay for that meal.”
As her show love interest, he couldn’t just sit back and let her run wild—especially when the audience was watching.
And I knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted to ride the wave, pick up favor with viewers. I didn’t call him out on it. Sometimes it’s fine to let someone take a little credit.
Paula blinked, stunned. “What do you mean she didn’t pay? Are you saying she just ate for free?”
Adam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because how could he explain what was so obvious now?
Faced with Paula’s questioning, Adam stayed silent.
Just then, the restaurant manager hurried out after us, holding a delicate jewelry box and a set of car keys. “Ms. Hartman, our boss just called. He asked us to prepare a small gift for you.”
I barely glanced at the items. “So tacky.”
Still, I took them and tossed them casually into my sister’s arms, then slid into the car without offering a single word of explanation and drove off.
In the passenger seat, my sister opened the jewelry box with wide eyes. “These earrings are gorgeous!” she said, holding them up to the light. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at me.
I responded without even glancing at her. “Run the bath when we get back. I feel like soaking.”
“Don’t worry, sis. I’ve got you covered. You just relax,” she said sweetly, slipping the earrings into her ears with a satisfied grin.
After returning to the filming location, I took my bath in her room. When she told me the director had called everyone downstairs, I threw on a face mask and headed out.
“Tomorrow,” the director announced once the cast had gathered, “each couple will choose one person to take the other home for dinner—meet the family, visit their friends, share their lives.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than Clark abruptly stood up.
“Director, I want to switch couples.”
The room fell into stunned silence. Even Paula blushed, clearly caught off guard but pleased by the public gesture. She hadn’t expected Clark to challenge the program for her.
Only I smiled, amused.
“You want to switch couples?” I said slowly. “What’s wrong, Clark? Don’t want to come to my house with Stella? Or are you afraid of Stella showing up at yours?”
I let the silence sit for a beat. “Can’t blame you. If I were you, I’d be scared too.”
