Revenge Of The Billionaire Heir

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The lobby felt like it was holding its breath.

Stefan was still shouting, red in the face, spitting words like poison.

The valet couldn’t even look at him anymore. His eyes kept going back to the black card in the guard’s hand. The security guard held it carefully now, with both hands, like it was something sacred.

He turned to Declan.

“S…. sir,” he said slowly, voice much softer now, “I’m… I’m sorry. We made a mistake.”

The valet swallowed hard and stepped forward too.

“I deeply apologize for my behavior earlier,” he said quickly. “I should never have spoken to you that way. I–I hope you can forgive my rudeness.”

People watched in stunned silence as the same man who had told Declan to come back for leftovers was almost bowing to him.

Stefan stared like he couldn’t believe it.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Why are you apologizing to him?”

The valet didn’t answer him. He turned his body slightly, facing Declan instead.

“If you will allow it, sir,” the valet said carefully, “we can take you to our private floor. It is reserved for premium clients.”

Declan looked at the card. At the guard. At the valet. At all the faces staring, waiting for him to boast or gloat.

He thought of Nana cleaning stables with her thin hands.

He thought of himself on his knees in the mud, barking like a dog.

“Just give us a normal table,” he said quietly. “We’re only here to eat.”

The valet blinked, surprised.

“O–of course,” he stammered. “Right this way.”

Asher leaned in and whispered, “Bro… you turned down the private floor.”

Ashton shook his head. “You’re a better person than me. I would have gone upstairs and stolen the napkins.”

Declan almost smiled. His heart was still pounding, but at least his legs felt steady.

The security guard handed the card back with both hands.

“Sir,” he said respectfully, “if anyone bothers you again, please call for me.”

Declan nodded and slipped the card into his pocket.

He did not look at Stefan again. He turned his back and followed the valet through the glass doors.

Inside, the sound of the street vanished.

Soft piano music floated through the air. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen fireworks. Tables were covered in white linen. The air smelled like butter, herbs, and something rich he couldn’t name.

Asher’s eyes were everywhere.

“This place looks like heaven and a bank merged together,” he whispered.

Ashton nudged him. “Behave. If you breathe too loud, they’ll charge you.”

The valet led them to a table by the window. The view looked over the whole city, tall buildings shining in the light.

“Please, have a seat,” the valet said. His tone was careful now. Respectful. “Your server will be with you shortly.”

He bowed slightly and walked away.

A young woman approached soon after, holding menus.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted. “Welcome. Would you like still water or sparkling?”

Asher squinted. “Sparkling… like… it will have lights?”

Ashton covered his face. “Ignore him,” he told the server.

Declan cleared his throat. “Still water is fine. Thank you.”

She smiled and set three tall glasses in front of them.

Then she put the menus down.

The moment Asher opened his, his soul left his body.

“Declan,” he whispered. “This salad costs more than my life.”

Ashton checked his own menu and sucked in air. “Soup is 8,000. Is the spoon included as a gift?”

Declan scanned the list.

35,000 for caviar.

10,000 for steak.

7,500 for pasta.

His chest tightened for a moment.

He remembered counting coins to buy bread.

He remembered Nana refusing to buy medicine so he could eat.

“Order what you want,” he said quietly.

Both twins snapped their heads up.

“What?” Asher asked.

Declan nodded. “Someone gave me this card and told me to stop being afraid. Let me buy you at least one good meal.”

Ashton looked at him for a long second.

“You’re serious,” he murmured.

“I am.”

Asher gulped. “Okay… then I want the cheapest thing on the menu.”

“Coward,” Ashton muttered.

They argued for a while, then finally picked simple dishes, pasta, grilled fish, a bowl of soup. Still expensive, but not the highest numbers on the page.

When the food came, it looked like art.

The plates were perfect. Colors, sauces, tiny herbs placed like someone painted them on.

Asher took one bite and closed his eyes.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “This is what rich people taste.”

Ashton chewed slowly. “I feel my DNA changing.”

Declan picked up his fork. His hands shook a little. He took a bite.

The flavors were deep, layered, warm. Nothing like cafeteria food. Nothing like cheap noodles. It made his chest ache in a strange way.

Nana never tasted this.

She died with hospital air in her lungs and cheap food in her stomach.

A tight knot formed in his throat.

“You okay?” Ashton asked quietly.

Declan nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“As long as you’re not thinking about the price,” Asher said. “Because if I think about the price, I’ll vomit it back onto the plate.”

Declan let out a short, real laugh. It felt strange, like a muscle he hadn’t used in a long time.

For the first time in days, he felt something that almost felt like peace.

No shouting.

No handcuffs.

No hospital beeps.

Just food.

Soft music.

Two friends who never treated him like trash.

His phone buzzed on the table.

He glanced at it.

Young master, I hope your exam went well. The Grandmaster has been informed about the earlier incident at the restaurant entrance.

Please return to the palace by evening. We need to discuss security and media protocols. — Sonia

Declan stared at the message for a few seconds, then locked the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

“Work?” Asher asked.

“Something like that,” Declan said.

They continued to eat. The twins joked about ordering dessert, then changed their minds when they saw the prices.

They whispered about how they would tell this story in the hostel, how nobody would believe them.

Outside the window, the city moved like normal, cars, people, buses, but inside the restaurant, everything felt slow. Careful. Controlled.

Declan didn’t know how long this new life would last.

He didn’t know if he could handle it.

But for this moment, this one simple moment… he let himself enjoy the taste of the food.

Then the piano music changed.

And the air changed with it.

The doors at the entrance opened with a loud thud.

The sound cut through the restaurant.

Cutlery paused. Conversations stopped mid-sentence.

Declan looked up.

Stefan walked in.

He was no longer smiling.

His jaw was tight, eyes burning. Behind him walked a police officer in dark blue uniform, his badge glinting under the chandelier.

Next to the officer, the restaurant manager hustled nervously, wringing his hands. One of the security guards from earlier followed a step behind, face stiff.

They headed straight for Declan’s table.

Asher’s fork slipped from his hand and clattered against the plate.

“Oh, hell,” he whispered.

Ashton straightened in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Every head turned. Some guests pretended not to stare but failed. Phone cameras quietly tilted in their direction.

Stefan stopped at the edge of their table, breathing a little too fast.

He lifted his arm and pointed his finger straight at Declan.

“That’s them!” he shouted, his voice loud enough to shake the glasses. “Those are the beggars who sneaked in here when they can’t even pay for the food!”

Gasps rose around the room.

Stefan didn’t stop.

“They STOLE a black card and used it to pretend they were rich!” he continued, voice thick with fake outrage. “They tried to humiliate the governor’s son at the entrance. And earlier, that one—”

He jabbed his finger closer to Declan.

“He assaulted me on campus. Look at them. Simple clothes, no car, no reservation. They don’t belong here.” He continued.

The manager looked torn apart inside.

“Mr. Sinclair…” he whispered shakily. “Are you sure…? The card was confirmed as…”

“I don’t care!” Stefan snapped, cutting her off.

“Do you want this place shut down in one week? Do you know who my father is? These rats don’t belong at my table, in my restaurant, in my city!”

Your restaurant? Declan thought. You didn’t build anything here.

The police officer cleared his throat.

“What exactly is your accusation?” he asked.

“Thief,” Stefan spat. “Fraud. Trespassing. Harassment. Pick one. All of them. I want them arrested. Now.”

Asher pushed his chair back and stood.

“We didn’t steal anything!” he shouted. “We didn’t even know this place existed until today!”

Ashton stood too, fists clenched.

“And nobody touched you today,” he told Stefan. “You keep starting fights and playing the victim when it suits you.”

Stefan’s face twisted.

“Listen to how they talk,” he said, disgusted. “No manners. No breeding. Do your job, officer.”

The officer looked at Declan. At the twins. At the whispering crowd. At Stefan.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Sir,” he said to Declan, “I will need to ask you some questions down at the station.”

Declan’s heart thudded once, hard but his face remained calm.

“I paid for nothing yet,” he said quietly. “The food is still on the table. The card is in my pocket. You can check it again. I haven’t even stood up from my seat.”

“We can explain,” Asher added quickly. “We were stopped at the door. Security checked us. They found the card. Everything …”

“Shut up,” Stefan snapped. “Stop lying. You stole it from some old man who doesn’t know better. You’re a stray dog pretending to be a lion.”

Something inside Declan flickered, but he kept his eyes steady.

“Sit,” he said softly to the twins.

They hesitated, breathing hard.

But they trusted him.

Slowly, they sat.

Declan did not stand.

He did not shout.

He just looked at the officer and waited.

The entire restaurant felt like a held breath.

The manager dabbed sweat from his forehead with a napkin.

“Officer…” he whispered. “Are you… really going to arrest a guest in front of everyone? Maybe we should double check with …”

Stefan glared at him. “If you don’t want trouble with my father, you will shut up.”

The officer finally moved.

He stepped closer to Declan.

For a moment, Declan smelled his aftershave and the faint scent of metal from the handcuffs on his belt.

The officer’s arm lifted.

His hand rose, slow but steady, reaching out toward Declan’s shoulder.

The entire world narrowed to that one movement.

Someone dropped a fork.

A glass trembled.

Asher held his breath.

Ashton whispered, “Declan…”

The officer’s fingers were an inch away from Declan’s shoulder aiming for a punch