Andrew decided he might as well eat first. The voucher was free. It wouldn’t make sense to waste it. And maybe after that—after some warm food in his stomach—he’d go home and forget how strange the day had been.Half an hour later, he found himself standing in front of the hundred floors building. One of the top hotels in Jashem. Even the entrance smelled expensive. A waiter in white gloves had come out before he even asked for help. “This way, sir,” the man had said. And Andrew had followed.He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t want to draw attention. Just a quiet meal. A quiet hour before he returned to whatever his life was.The waiter led him past the glass staircase, past the champagne-colored chandeliers, past people who didn’t look at him, because to them, he wasn’t even there. And just as Andrew reached the section with his table, his eyes moved to the far side of the room.And there she was. Anastacia.He froze. Not because he wasn’t used to surprises. But because nothing abo

The next day, Andrew went about his day, and was heading home that evening. He hadn’t eaten all day, and his stomach grumbled with irritation, but he barely noticed. His mind wandered until something suddenly clicked. He remembered that one of the men had given him a voucher.Andrew dug into his wallet and pulled out the voucher. The paper felt crisp and cold in his hand. It was a one million dollar voucher to one of the top restaurants in Jashem City. A ridiculous amount, too extravagant to ignore. He blinked at it, then tucked it back into his wallet with a low sigh. He decided to go eat first with the free voucher before heading home.Half an hour later, Andrew arrived at the Mountain Palace Restaurant—a 100-storey skyscraper that lit up the city skyline.Wind pressed gently against his coat as he looked up at the towering building, its glass panels reflecting the early night. It wasn’t just a restaurant. It was a landmark. It was one of the top seven-star restaurants in the cit

“C’mon, it’s not possible that you would know someone like that,” Paul said, his voice edged with disdain as he leaned closer to Dorothy. He lifted his wine glass lazily, swirling the golden liquid inside without taking a sip. His gaze flicked briefly toward the direction Andrew had gone. They had all watched the brief incident that had unfolded between Mirian and Andrew. None of them had commented at first, but their eyes had said enough— even if Andrew wasn't a waiter as Mirain had mistaken him for , he didn't seem far from that .But there was a question lingering through their mind "How did he get a vip pass ? “Who knows, he might have gotten a free invite or something,” Paul said out loud as he smiled without warmth, clearly amused by the idea that someone dressed like that could be allowed in a place like this.“Paul is right. Where do you think you could possibly know someone like that?” Mirian asked dismissively , her voice laced with disdain .Dorothy looked over to Andr

Anastacia had no choice but to oblige her friends’ demands. She didn't want to, but saying no would raise suspicion. If Andrew had been someone influential—a man with pedigree, a last name that made heads turn—she wouldn’t have waited to be told before proudly dragging him to their table. But Andrew’s case was different. He was a nobody. Not from a notable family, not the owner of any business. Nothing about him screamed success. Just a desperate man who married her for the sake of leeching off her family’s fortune. That’s what she told herself. That’s how she justified the disgust bubbling in her chest. To her, he was a disgrace. An unwanted shadow tied to her name. Nothing more. Still, with measured steps and a hollow expression, she walked toward Andrew’s table. This was going to be unpleasant, but backing out would make it worse.She tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. “My friends want you to come join us at our table,” she said, the words sliding off her tongue with

After Andrew got a VVIP when others couldn't get it, the tension in the room shifted. The people who had mocked him earlier fell into stunned silence, unsure whether to feel jealous, suspicious, or humiliated. The VVIP wasn’t just a place you threw money at to get into—it demanded reputation, discretion, and a certain unspoken credibility that couldn't be faked, forged, or finessed. Even those with political clout or old money had been denied that access. It required more than money to gain entrance to. You had to be someone, not just act like someone. The moment Andrew stepped through those velvet ropes with Anastacia walking beside him, a ripple of whispers swept across the main lounge. Her friends wore forced smiles, eyes burning with curiosity and contempt. They had spent years trying to gain access, and this low-life husband of hers got in like it was nothing. That was enough to bruise fragile egos and awaken deeper rivalries.There was a game going on inside the VVIP—a bet