Not My Brother's Keeper

"Miss, stop wasting everyone's time and just pay your bill."

The manager's tone was sharp and condescending, as if she were already sure I was trying to score a free meal.

A few curious glances came from the people around us.

I frowned, not wanting to waste my time on something this ridiculous. I took out my phone to call my younger brother, Dennis White.

All I got was a busy signal. I tried again, but still nothing.

It was a workday. What could that brat possibly be doing?

I put my phone away and looked at the pushy woman right in the eye as I repeated myself, word for word, "I'll say it one more time. My name is Theresa White. I'm Dennis's older sister. If you can't reach him, just check his account. My photo and information are all linked to his card."

I thought that was the most direct and effective way to settle things.

However, upon hearing my name, the manager didn't even bother to check. Instead, she burst into a loud laugh, drawing even more attention our way.

She leaned in suddenly, lowering her voice so that only the two of us could hear. "Still playing pretend? I've seen your face on my honey, Dennis's, social media! You're just a shameless witch, sneaking around with my man! And now, you have the nerve to show up here and try to put your meal on his tab? How thick-skinned are you?"

For a moment, I was stunned. I glanced at her nametag. Jessica Thompson. I could only feel speechless at all of this. So, this was Dennis's so-called secret girlfriend, the one he wouldn't even show me a photo of.

How could Dennis have such terrible taste?

I see. This outrageous fifty-thousand-dollar bill wasn't some kind of misunderstanding. It was a setup, planned all along just to humiliate me.

Before I could say another word, she had lost her patience. "If this lady wants to dine and dash, we'll just have to detain her and wait for the police!"

She waved her hand, and two brawny security guards who had been waiting nearby immediately stepped forward.

One clamped a hand tightly over my mouth, while the other twisted my arms behind my back like I was a criminal.

I struggled, but it was hopeless due to the difference in strength.

Ignoring my furious glare and the shocked looks from the other guests, they dragged me roughly toward the kitchen. They then dumped me into a storage room that reeked of disinfectants and leftover food.

The door slammed shut, cutting me off from all light and sound outside.