It wasn't until they were finally in the car that Kevin calmed down a little. He turned to Dexter and asked, "Dexter… are you in the mob or something?"
"Of course not. Do I look like it?" Dexter laughed. Kevin's reaction was just too funny.
Kevin thought about it. He really didn't look like a gangster. "Then why do you carry a gun with you?"
As Dexter started the car, he answered casually, "I'm American, and I've got money. Carrying a gun on me makes perfect sense, right? What if I get robbed?"
Kevin: "…"
Fair point.
"I guess that makes sense," Kevin said, then added nervously, "but you just pulled the trigger like that back there. You seriously scared me."
"You don't get it," Dexter said with a smile, confidently making things up. "When I first entered society, I ran into plenty of people way crazier than your ex-wife. I got burned a lot and eventually learned a lesson."
"When you deal with unreasonable people, don't bother trying to reason with them. When someone tries to scare you, you've got to be scarier than them. You have to act fast and decisively—otherwise, you're the one who gets screwed."
"So trust me. What I did just now might not have been the best solution, but it was definitely a good one."
Kevin listened carefully. The more he thought about it, the more he understood Dexter's actions. More importantly, his attention shifted away from his ex-wife and toward Dexter's past.
"So… what kind of bad stuff happened to you before?" Kevin asked, curious.
"A lot," Dexter said without missing a beat. "I've been robbed at gunpoint, scammed out of tons of money, kidnapped once, and almost killed over money…"
Kevin's eyes went wide.
Who cares about Cheryl anymore?
"No wonder you're successful now," Kevin said with emotion. "That must've been really hard."
Dexter just smiled.
Messing with someone as innocent as Kevin was way too easy.
Before long, they reached a main road. Dexter spotted a taxi, honked, and flagged it down. Then he said to Kevin, "Just in case your ex calls the cops, you take my car back. I'll grab a cab."
Kevin didn't fully get the logic, but he nodded anyway. "Okay."
They quickly split up.
Dexter got into the back seat of the taxi and gave the driver the address.
Would Cheryl call the police?
He was over 90% sure she wouldn't.
The reason was simple.
Cheryl was trash, and she wasn't that brave. Anyone with a bit of sense wouldn't be stupid enough to expect the cops to go after someone who didn't hesitate to fire a gun.
If she'd had that kind of nerve, in the original story she wouldn't have just been pinned to the couch by Veronica, signed the divorce papers, then cowardly jumped in a car and ran off.
Still, better safe than sorry.
Splitting up was safer.
That way, even if Cheryl completely lost it and called the police, it would take them a while to track him down.
Before that, he could easily stash the gun.
Worst case, he'd hire a lawyer and deal with the legal mess.
Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Way too much trouble.
As for whether all this was worth it—for Kevin?
That was subjective.
But Dexter felt it was totally worth it.
After this, Kevin's definitely a real brother, Dexter thought with a smile, closing his eyes.
And in reality…
His guess was right.
Cheryl was still shaking in fear.
Call the cops?
Not a chance.
She never wanted to see Dexter again—as long as she lived.
---
Bzzz… bzzz…
In the taxi, Dexter had his eyes closed and was almost asleep when his phone vibrated.
It was Veronica calling.
"Boss, when are you getting back?" she asked, sounding shocked. "There are a lot of people outside the restaurant—looks like they came from other districts."
Dexter checked the time. Just past five. "Probably at least another half hour."
"Oh no, what do we do then? Should we open and let them in?" Veronica asked anxiously.
"How many people?" Dexter asked.
"At least thirty," Veronica replied, glancing outside.
Dexter thought for a moment. "Do this: tell them the boss has something to take care of, we open at six. Suggest they go hang out at Albert Bar for now and come back to line up later. Still fifteen portions—first come, first served."
Hearing that, Veronica immediately remembered what Dexter had said before about the restaurant and Albert Bar referring customers to each other. She felt genuinely touched. "Boss, you're really a good person."
"Obviously."
"Okay, I'll tell them."
She hung up.
Dexter closed his eyes again and went back to sleep.
---
At Dex Restaurant.
Veronica opened the door and followed Dexter's instructions, explaining everything to the well-dressed, rich, good-looking crowd who'd arrived in luxury cars.
After hearing her out, some of them got upset.
"What kind of restaurant is this? So arrogant!"
"Screw it, I'm not eating here. Let's go!"
"…"
Some of the more entitled ones immediately pulled out their phones, snapped photos of the restaurant, and posted on Twitter, angrily complaining:
"I saw friends recommend this place on Twitter, drove all the way here to try it. Turns out this restaurant is insanely arrogant. We show up and they won't even open—just tell us to leave!!!"
"Don't get scammed, everyone. Stay away and watch it go out of business!"
The rest of the crowd—either less hot-tempered or unwilling to waste the long drive—didn't argue. They quietly headed toward Albert Bar instead.
Seeing this, Veronica was genuinely surprised. Confused, she walked over to Vivian, who was cutting fruit and arranging fruit plates.
"These rich people are so weird," Veronica said. "I thought if I said that, everyone would leave. I can't believe some of them actually went to Albert Bar."
Vivian smiled. "The boss is very smart. This trick is called hunger marketing. The harder something is to get, the more rich people want it."
Veronica's eyes went wide. "Isn't that kind of crazy?"
Vivian grinned and nodded. "You could say that. But it works really well. I bet in a day or two, there'll be a huge line outside. Even more rich people will come."
As she spoke, Vivian glanced at some young people outside furiously typing on their phones. "These people love to party and have tons of followers online."
"One round of their complaining will bring our restaurant a lot of attention."
Vivian didn't own a phone—and even if she did, she'd probably lose it—but she'd read a lot of books and knew a little about everything.
Veronica was almost the opposite. Her eyes widened even more. "But they're trashing our restaurant. That kind of attention can't be good, right?"
Vivian shook her head with a smile. "It is. Being known—no matter how—is a good thing."
Veronica was completely lost. Her head started to hurt, so she gave up thinking about it. She shook her head. "This world is so weird. I don't get it."
Vivian smiled. "You should read more books. The more you read, the more you'll understand. And then you'll make a lot of money."
Veronica instinctively didn't quite believe her. "Really?"
Vivian nodded. "Really."
Veronica still wasn't convinced. "You love reading. You must've read a ton of books… but you—"
Vivian didn't mind at all. She kept smiling. "I used to make a lot of money too. Tens of millions, actually. I just lost it all."
Veronica: "..."
Wow, Vivian—so you're a total bullsht artist.
Veronica smiled, said nothing more, and went back to her seat.
Vivian didn't care at all. She focused on cutting fruit, feeling calm and content.
This is nice, she thought.