Scammed at My Sister’s Restaurant

"Sir, stop wasting our time and pay the bill," said the manager harshly. He was cocksure about my failure to pay the bill. The guy thought I was a deadbeat who leeched off a woman.

There was already a small crowd forming around us. A frown creased my forehead. This was not worth my time. I called my sister, but the line was busy. I tried again. No dice.

It was a work day!

'What on earth is that girl doing?' I thought.

I put my phone away and looked at the manager. He was going to push me into a corner, but I reiterated, "My name is Zacharias Grayheim, the brother of your boss, Selina Grayheim. I can't get through to her now. You can check her card, which has my photo and information linked to it."

I thought that would be enough to handle this. It was straightforward. However, the manager did not verify anything. Instead, an ear-piercing laughter came tumbling out of his throat.

He was rocking back and forth from laughing too hard. The crowd grew bigger.

Then, he darted closer and hissed in a voice only we could hear. "You can drop the act now. I saw your pics on Selina's phone. I'm her boyfriend, and I know exactly who you are. You're the bastard who keeps getting in my way. And now you come right to her shop just to put your bill on her tab? Who do you think you are?"

That barrage made me freeze. I checked the name tag hanging from his chest. Harold Stern. I had no idea what to say.

Selina had a boyfriend, I knew that. She never even showed me a photo of him, though. And now I saw him for who he was. Foolish and venomous. I wondered if her taste in men was crude, after all.

This exorbitant bill was no misunderstanding. It was a scheme. A scheme to humiliate me.

I wanted to say something, but Harold's patience was gone.

"If you insist on eating for free, then we'll have to take you down until the cops arrive!" He swung his arms.

A pair of burly bodyguards came ahead.

They were professionally trained. I was outnumbered and outclassed. My resistance was shot down easily, with the bodyguards pulling my arms behind me.

Still, I thrashed like a feral canine, but I could not break free.

They ignored my fury and the horrified customers as they shoved me into the kitchen. Then they slammed me into a storeroom, a place filled to the brim with the stench of disinfectant and swill.

When the door swung shut, the light and sounds of the world outside were cut off.