Chapter 4

Charlie gleefully offered the payment terminal to me again.

"Are you going to pay by card?" he asked. "Oh, I have to remind you that this payment terminal doesn't accept credit cards. You have to use your debit card."

It was obvious that Charlie was certain that I wouldn't be able to pay and wanted to see me embarrass myself.

I ignored him and rummaged through the torn compartment of my bag, pulling out a black phone.

It wasn't the usual smartphone that saturated the market. Instead, it was a satellite phone. It was thick and heavy, drop-proof, and had global signal coverage.

Dad had specially ordered one for me in case I was abducted or got into an accident.

I didn't expect to use it here of all places.

Charlie's smile grew wider when he noticed the "vintage" phone that I was holding.

"Did you pick that up from the trash?" he asked. "Don't tell me that you're thinking of pawning that off to pay off your debt, Lily? Is it even worth 50 dollars?"

Charlie's relatives burst into laughter.

"Stop dragging this out, miss," Larry said impatiently. "Hurry and pay the bill. We're waiting to finish our shifts."

I pressed the red emergency button on the phone.

The call connected within seconds, putting me through to my personal team without having to dial a single number.

"Ms. Rosewood."

The voice on the other end of the line was deep and steady.

"I'm in the banquet hall on the third floor. Clear the area and seal the exits."

I hung up after I was done speaking and tossed the phone on the table. It landed with a loud thud.

Silence fell over the hall for a second before everyone burst into laughter.

Tears of mirth streamed down Charlie's face. "Clear the area? Seal the exits? Did we shake a few screws loose in your head earlier, Lily? Who do you think you are? The princess of a mafia family? You're putting on quite an act. Why don't you go ahead and call the Avengers to back you up too?"

Sasha placed a hand on her hip as she heaved for breath. Her stomach hurt from how hard she was laughing. "I can't take it anymore. I think I'm going to die of laughter. Did you hear her, everyone? She's the epitome of a drama queen! It's so awkward. I can't help but feel embarrassed on her behalf."

Melissa spat on the floor. "Drop the act! Call security, Larry. Tell them to drag her out of here."

Larry rolled up his sleeves. He was just about to carry out Melissa's orders when a deafening bang echoed through the hall.

Someone had forcefully pushed the banquet hall's wooden doors open from the outside, causing them to slam loudly against the walls.

Two rows of bodyguards wearing black suits and sunglasses swarmed into the hall. All 20 of them were tall and muscular, giving off an intimidating air. They swiftly dispersed and stationed themselves in front of all the windows and exits.

Their movements were synchronized, making it obvious that they were well-trained.

A middle-aged man dressed in a gray, tailored suit stumbled into the hall with hurried footsteps. His tie was crooked, and he was sweating profusely. His complexion was deathly pale, as if he had seen a ghost.

The man was the general manager of Grand Jewel Hotel, Wes Morton.

Normally, Wes was an unreachable person for someone like Charlie.

However, Charlie always boasted about knowing Wes personally even though he had never even met the man. He looked as if he had just seen his savior when he laid eyes on Wes. He immediately fixed an amicable smile on his face and approached Wes.

"Mr. Morton! What are you doing here? Did you catch wind of the commotion that this woman has been causing? Don't worry. I'll be sending her to the police station shortly! I definitely won't let her affect the hotel's operations!" he exclaimed as he pointed at me with a smug look.

Wes completely ignored Charlie. He shoved Charlie aside and rushed over to me, skidding to a stop about six feet away from me. His legs felt like jelly, and he nearly collapsed to his knees.

Dead silence descended upon the hall. It was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.

Wes, who always carried himself with an aloof and arrogant air, was shaking as he retrieved a white handkerchief from his coat, offering it to me with both hands. He then nodded solemnly at me.

His voice was trembling when he stuttered, "M-Ms. Rosewood. P-Please wipe your hands with this. I'm sorry for being late. How do you plan to deal with this group of riff-raffs?"