Some no-name punk thought he could flex in front of Stan Harrison? In front of Stan’s friends? Then he could damn well honor his own bragging.

"You sure you don’t want to just pick up the tab?" Wade asked, the corner of his mouth twitching nervously. "Save us all the trouble. I’d hate for things to get awkward."

"No." Stan’s reply was cold and decisive.

Wade blinked. "No?"

"You said it was on you. Twice. Loudly." Stan turned to the waiter. "He’s covering everything. Bring two more cases of Louis XIII."

The waiter glanced at Wade. Wade’s jaw worked. He couldn’t say no, not after the show he’d put on walking in here, not in front of this table, not without admitting the whole performance had been hot air.

"...Fine," Wade gritted out. "Two more cases."

"And the tomahawk. Two of them. Whatever the chef recommends, bring it all."

"You," Wade started.

"What?" Stan met his eyes. "You hosting or not?"

The table went still.

Wade had spent the entire evening taunting Zack and Zoey. Now that there was finally a chance to teach the loudmouth a lesson, how could Stan just let it slip?

Every dish Stan ordered was another inch of rope, one Wade would eventually hang himself with.

Hailey Yates leaned over. "What are you doing? He’s going to lose it."

"He volunteered," Stan said.

"Keep going then," Wade said, forcing the smirk back on. "Order the whole menu. I want to see how far you’ll push it before you get embarrassed for me."

"I won’t be the one embarrassed." Stan laughed..

The food came in waves. Wade picked at his plate, his heart in pain.

Stan ordered another round of appetizers between courses, then a dessert flight, then coffee service, then, just to twist the knife, a fifth case of Louis XIII to take home.

"Check, please."

The waiter approached. Wade straightened, plastering on the host’s smile out of pure muscle memory.

"Sir, your total is one hundred thirty thousand dollars."

The number landed like a dropped tray.

Wade’s smile froze. "...How much?"

"One hundred thirty thousand."

Zack inhaled sharply. The rest of the table had gone very, very quiet.

Stan leaned back, arms folded, watching. Not gloating. Just watching. He didn’t need to say anything, the waiter was already standing at Wade’s elbow, card reader extended, expectant.

"Wade," Stan said mildly. "You’re up."

Wade’s hand shook as he reached for his wallet. He pulled out a card. Held it. Didn’t move.

"Problem?" Stan asked.

[Card declined.]

The Bluetooth speaker carried it through the entire dining room.

Heads turned. Forks paused mid-air.

"Who’s the guy who can’t cover his own tab?"

"Did the Bluetooth just say one-thirty dollars?"

"And he ordered it himself? What kind of clown,"

The restaurant’s per-table cap was ten thousand.

Wade had blown thirteen times that on a bluff he never expected to be called. And now the bluff was sitting on a card reader, blinking red, in front of the person he’d been trying to impress all week.

The blood left his face in one slow, draining wave.

Seeing this, Stan shook his head with a smile, finally pulled out his own phone. Scanned the QR code and didn’t even look up.

[One hundred thirty thousand dollars deposited via US Construction Bank]

He pocketed the phone and stood. As he passed Wade’s chair, he paused, leaned down, and dropped a hand on his shoulder, light, almost friendly.

"Next time you offer to pay," he said, "make sure you can."

His grip tightened, just enough for Wade to feel it.

"And get lost. Don’t bother Zack or Zoey again. Ever. We clear?"

Wade didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Stan released him, straightened his cuffs, and walked past Wade’s chair without a second glance before slipping back into his seat at the table.

Wade remained frozen exactly where he was, half-standing, half-crumpled, the card reader still blinking accusingly on the table beside him. He could feel every pair of eyes in the restaurant on him now.

The diners at the surrounding tables weren’t even pretending to mind their own business anymore. They were openly staring. Some were whispering. A few had their phones out.

He could read every single one of those looks without effort.

’Look at this idiot. Only a complete fool gets himself into a situation like this.’

The ground refused to open up and swallow him, much as he wished it would. He wanted to leave, desperately wanted to leave, but his legs wouldn’t quite obey.

The shame was too dense, too heavy, too publicly witnessed. He had never been humiliated like this. Not once in his life.

Across the table, Hailey Yates was staring at Stan with an entirely different kind of expression.

Her boredom from earlier in the evening had been wiped clean off her face and replaced with something dreamy. She was looking at him now the way a hunter looks at a particularly impressive deer.

’I’m in love. I’m actually in love!’

She had completely revised her opinion of him in the span of a few seconds seconds.

"Just because you’re broke and can’t cover your own bills," Stan said coldly, settling back into his chair, "doesn’t mean everyone else lives in your particular budget. Try to understand that."

He glanced sideways at Wade.

"Next time, try not to bite off more than you can chew. And while you’re at it, get lost. You’re blocking the view."

Wade Hollis felt each word land like a needle against his sternum.

He had walked into this restaurant tonight with one objective: humiliate Zack in front of Zoey, show off his old wealth, and remind his ex-girlfriend exactly what kind of life she’d traded down from.

Instead, he was now the floor show. The cautionary tale. The guy who’d be discussed at three different tables for the rest of the evening, and possibly screenshotted onto a few group chats by morning.

He couldn’t stay another second. He gritted his teeth, dropped his eyes to the floor, and walked out without a single word, his shoulders carrying the unmistakable hunch of a man who knew the story was going to follow him.