All Chapters of The Takeout Takedown: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"You're not short on food at home. Is this really necessary?" Aunt Marian scolded.I took a deep breath, forcing down my anger."Aunt Marian, Mike insisted on splitting the bill. He even said he'd rather throw the leftovers away than let me take them. I just didn't want to waste—""Alright, that's enough!" She cut me off sharply. "Men care about their pride! Packing food right in front of him—wasn't that basically slapping him in the face, saying he couldn't afford to treat you? Mike's mother said it herself—women should be sensible, reserved. With behavior like yours, how are you ever going to marry into the McSally family?"I let out a cold laugh.Marry into the McSally family? Even if they begged me, I wouldn't be interested."Aunt Marian, if he's so outstanding, then save him for a woman who's more 'sensible,'" I said coolly."I'm not worthy of such a match."With that, I hung up, thinking the matter was finally over. I didn't expect fate to circle back so quickly.…The n

"H-How much?!" Mike stuttered."188,800 dollars," the server repeated, her professional smile unwavering."Are you ripping me off?!" Mike shot to his feet. "It's just a few dishes—how could it cost that much?!""Sir, the alcohol alone account for 150,000. The Australian lobster and black truffles are also priced at market rate."Mike's face drained of color. Cold sweat streamed down his forehead.He wiped at it frantically, forcing himself to sound composed. "Well… I'm a friend of Mr. Vance! He said I'd get fifty percent off! No—ninety percent off!"The server shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Vance did not authorize any discount. And our establishment does not offer discounts as a rule.""Bullshit! He agreed to it right at the entrance!"Panicking, Mike pulled out his phone and pretended to make a call. But he didn't even have Mr. Vance's number.He jabbed at the screen a few times, muttering "Hello? Hello?" to thin air before slamming the phone onto the table in frustrati

Mike's hand jerked at the thunderous shout.The bucket of greasy soup—mixed with cigarette butts and spit—didn't end up over my head, but more than half of it sloshed out, splattering oil across the hems of my pants and the tops of my shoes.He didn't have the presence of mind to care because the group flooding in through the doorway carried an overwhelming presence.More than a dozen burly security guards in matching black uniforms, earpieces clipped in place, rushed into the private room and formed a solid wall, surrounding Mike and his mother.Right behind them, a middle-aged man in a tailored suit, his hair impeccably combed, strode in with purpose.Trailing him were Edgar—who had been playing along earlier—and several other hotel executives, their faces dark with anger.The moment Mike saw the entourage, his eyes lit up. He recognized him instantly—a familiar face from local news, the general manager of our hotel group: Jake Crenshaw.Clearly, Mike assumed the commotion he'

"'Something between us'? When you tried to dump those leftovers on me, did you think about that? When you smeared me on your social feed, did you think about that?"Mike, adults pay for their own arrogance. And didn't you just say this meal was my attempt to win you back?"I leaned in, lowering my voice so only he could hear."Then let me be clear—I would rather treat a dog to dinner, but not you."Straightening, I gave a small wave to the security guards."Put him on the blacklist for every hotel under the Goodlander Group. And call the police."…The police arrived quickly.When Mike was taken away, he cried miserably, snot and tears running together, all his earlier swagger gone without a trace.His mother chased after the police car, losing a shoe along the way, shouting as she ran, "This is a scam! A black-hearted hotel! Bullying a helpless widow and her son!"No one paid her any attention. Mike's colleagues had already scattered, afraid of being dragged into the mess.

Angry netizens swarmed Mike's livestream, reporting him until his account was permanently banned. Buyers who had purchased his "products" demanded triple compensation for refunds. Instead of making money, Mike now faced massive fines and possible prison time for selling counterfeit and substandard goods.But just when it seemed the storm had passed, his mother decided to stir up trouble. She showed up at my villa, carrying a bottle of pesticide, threatening to die at my doorstep."Jennifer! You wicked woman! If you don't withdraw the lawsuit, I'll die right here in front of your house! You'll never have peace in your life!"She wailed at the cameras, holding the bottle aloft.This time, nobody showed her sympathy. The crowd only looked on with cold disdain."Stop acting, ma'am. Your son brought this on himself!""Exactly. Failed to scam and now trying to play the martyr? Give it a rest!"Trapped and cornered, she faltered—just as I stepped forward, holding a lawyer's notice."M