CHAPTER 82. KIZER IS DEAD.
"This looks… very expensive," Eleanora murmured, contemplating inside the dining suite minutes after Alexander left. The soft glow of crystal chandeliers reflected off polished marble floors—too pristine, too indulgent. "I think we should head somewhere else."
She didn't need to say the rest. Alexander would be paying. And that went against her pride and principles.
"I think you are right." Beatrice agreed quickly.
They turned almost in unison, only to find themselves intercepted by the Head Chef himself—white coat creased with sweat, eyes wide with practiced politeness and poorly hidden panic.
"Madam, did you not find something to your liking?" he said, bowing slightly.
"Oh, no—it's not that," Beatrice replied smoothly. "We're simply not hungry. We stayed out of courtesy. We'd like to leave now."
