Chapter 100
“Camila, I wonder how long you can keep that smug look on your face. If you make my life miserable, I’ll make sure you don’t have it easy either!”
*Tabitha, stop shaking your head. I can hear the water sloshing from here. Were you born without a brain? Can you only think of such foolish revenge? I don’t care if you love running a diner and serving free meals to the neighbors; after all, we’re just renting the place, and closing it won’t cause us any loss.” Camila said leisurely.
The bedroom door was ajar, and Connor overheard everything clearly as he passed by, his brow furrowing slightly. Tabitha was at it
again.
He returned to his bedroom, pulled open a drawer, and neatly laid out a piece of paper, taking a photo of the address on it. When he returned to the dining room, Camila was already seated. “Mr. Connor, breakfast is ready,” Camila said with a slight smile.
Connor grunted in acknowledgment and took a sip of the coffee in front of him.
‘People who drink coffee brewed from cat litter are weird! You shouldn’t hang out with them.’
Camila blurted out the thought again. She had to pursed her lips to stop herself from laughing, her hands trembling with the effort.
“What’s so funny?” Connor asked.
Camila struggled to contain her laughter, looking up to reply, “Just thought of something amusing.”
“What’s it?” Connor looked puzzled, glancing at her.
“It’s not amusing for you. Let’s eat,” Camila said, lowering her head to her breakfast.
Connor gave her a sharp look before taking another sip of his coffee.
At noon, the business at Didi’s Diner was booming. A man with tattooed arms was sitting by the window, a steaming bowl of chicken
ravioli in front of him.
He sneakily glanced around, making sure no one was watching, then quickly pulled out a tiny bottle from his pocket. Carefully, he unscrewed the cap and gently shook his wrist, slowly pouring the contents of the bottle into the ravioli. The entire process was swift and covert, going unnoticed.
Suddenly, the tattooed man yelled, “Damn! There’s a cockroach in the soup!”
His shout made all the diners turn to look at him. The man scooped up the cockroach from his ravioli and loudly exclaimed, “Look at this! Is this what you serve people? Are you trying to kill me?”
The diners began inspecting their own bowls, creating a cacophony of spoons clanging against bowls.
The waiter, embarrassed, quickly apologized, “I’m so sorry. I’ll get you another bowl right away.”
“Another? Why would I eat here again? It’s all cooked in the same pot!” the tattooed man bellowed.
The other diners hesitated to continue eating, shouting in unison, “We want a refund!”
The waiter approached the tattooed man, saying, “Sir, let’s talk. We’ll find a satisfactory solution for you.”
Other staff members tried to calm everyone down, “Our kitchen is very clean. It must have been an accident.”
“Let’s settle this here!” the tattooed man slammed the table, saying loudly.
The waiter said softly with a smile, “Since you didn’t actually eat it, let’s not make a big deal out of it, shall we?”
“What do you mean ‘not make a big deal out of it?‘ I’ve already had several bites of the ravioli, and now my stomach feels terrible!” the tattooed man addressed the other diners.
“Yes, yes! My stomach feels weird, too!”
“This is disgusting!”
The waiter gave an awkward smile. “A misunderstanding. It’s just a misunderstanding.”
“Oh my God, there’s a cockroach!” a woman screamed.
As everyone watched, a cockroach scurried away. The tattooed man smirked, pleased with himself.