THE SERVANT HUSBAND IS THE QUADRILLIONAIRE HEIR

Chapter 10

MICHAEL'S POV

As we settled into the second-floor venue, the whispers and speculation grew louder.

The elegant chandeliers and fine table settings couldn't mask the underlying tension that had followed us down from the third floor.

"I heard from one of the waiters," a family member said in hushed tones, "that whoever booked the top floor did it for a woman. Some kind of romantic celebration."

Grandmother Fletcher's eyes lit up with curiosity. "A woman? How fascinating. I wonder who could possibly be worthy of such an extravagant gesture."

"Probably some foreign heiress," Richard speculated. "Or maybe a senator's daughter."

Isabella suddenly let out a sharp laugh, pointing directly at Sarah. "Maybe it's for our dear Sarah here! After all, she's so special that she can afford to turn down hundred-million-dollar investments!"

The table erupted in laughter again, the absurdity of the suggestion striking everyone as hilarious.

"Can you imagine?" another relative chimed in. "Sarah dining on the seventh floor while the rest of us mere mortals eat on the second!"

I looked directly at Isabella, my voice calm and steady. "Actually, you're right. The celebration is for Sarah."

The laughter grew even louder, if that was possible.

"Oh, this is priceless!" Isabella gasped. "Michael, you're really committed to this fantasy, aren't you?"

"He's lost his mind," Tina muttered, shaking her head in embarrassment.

Derek saw his opportunity and leaned forward with a calculating smile. "You know, I've been thinking. My father has extensive business connections throughout the city. It's entirely possible he knows this mysterious VIP personally."

Grandmother Fletcher's attention snapped to him immediately. "Really?"

"Oh yes. In fact, if Sarah were to divorce Michael and marry me instead, I might be able to arrange an introduction. Imagine the business opportunities that could open up for the Fletcher family."

I could see the gears turning in Grandmother Fletcher's mind, her eyes lighting up with avarice.

"Sarah," she said, her voice taking on a commanding tone, "this changes everything. You need to divorce this delusional fool immediately."

"Grandmother, I can't just—"

"Yes, you can, and you will!" Her voice rose to fill the room. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Do you understand what kind of connections Derek is offering?"

Sarah's face went pale. "But I'm already married—"

"To a man who contributes nothing to this family except debt and embarrassment!" Grandmother Fletcher stood up, her voice becoming more threatening. "Either you divorce him right now, or I'm calling the police to report both of you for embezzlement. You'll both be in jail by midnight."

The ultimatum hung in the air like a poison cloud. Sarah looked around the table desperately, but found no allies among her own family members.

"Do it, Sarah," Robert urged. "Think about what's best for everyone."

"Don't be selfish," Tina added. "This could save our entire branch of the family."

Sarah's hands were trembling now, torn between protecting me and protecting herself. "I can't let Michael go to jail because of my mistakes—"

"Don't worry about it," I said calmly, taking her hand. "Everything's going to be fine."

Before anyone could respond, a booming voice echoed through the hotel's sound system.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are honored to announce the arrival of Mr. Santiago Montenegro, CEO of Montenegro Enterprises."

The room fell into stunned silence. Even the waiters stopped moving.

"Did they just say Santiago Montenegro?" someone whispered.

"The Santiago Montenegro?" another voice added in awe.

Santiago Montenegro was a legend in the business world—a man whose influence extended far beyond the city, beyond the state, even beyond the country. His conglomerate controlled industries from technology to real estate to international shipping. He was the kind of man who had private meetings with presidents and prime ministers.

Grandmother Fletcher's face went through a rapid series of emotions—shock, disbelief, and finally, explosive joy.

"He's here!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat. "Santiago Montenegro is here for my birthday!"

She turned to Derek with newfound respect. "Your family's connections are even more impressive than I imagined!"

Derek maintained his composure outwardly, but I could see the confusion in his eyes. His father had been trying to arrange a meeting with Montenegro for years without success. Derek had no idea why the man was here.

"This is incredible," Derek said, playing along. "I should go greet him personally, establish a connection for future business opportunities."

The double doors to the banquet hall swung open with theatrical precision, and Santiago Montenegro entered with the bearing of a man accustomed to absolute power. He was tall, impeccably dressed in a navy suit that probably cost more than most people's cars, and carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who could reshape markets with a phone call.

Grandmother Fletcher practically threw herself forward, Derek close behind her.

"Mr. Montenegro!" she called out, her voice filled with gratitude. "What an incredible honor! Thank you so much for coming to celebrate my birthday!"

"Yes, sir," Derek added, extending his hand. "I'm Derek Manning. I believe you may know my father from—"

Montenegro didn't even glance in their direction. His eyes swept the room with laser focus until they found exactly what—or rather, who—he was looking for.

He walked directly toward Sarah and me, completely ignoring the outstretched hands and expectant faces of everyone else in the room.

When he reached our table, he bowed deeply—a gesture of profound respect that sent shockwaves through every person present.

"Mr. Thompson, Mrs. Thompson," he said in a voice that commanded absolute attention. "It would be my honor to escort you to the top floor for your anniversary celebration."

The silence in the room was so complete I could hear my own heartbeat.