Miles's voice was calm, but his words struck sharp. "We weren't told the room was prebooked. The order has already been taken. This is your mistake. We're not moving. Bring your owner here. I'll talk."
The manager stiffened, taken aback by the sudden firmness in Miles's tone. "I politely asked you to leave the room," he replied, trying to hold on to professionalism. "I even offered to arrange another table. Are you leaving, or am I calling security?"
A smirk touched Miles's lips. "Huh? Are you threatening me now?"
He stood up, slowly—towering a little over the manager, whose confident facade cracked as he instinctively took a step back.
Celina narrowed her eyes. "Do you even know who we are?"
Becky and Rose exchanged a glance, their expressions unimpressed, their backs straightening.
The manager, avoiding Miles's gaze now, fumbled with his words. "W-Whoever you are... this is not your property. I'm calling security."
Miles chuckled darkly, tilting his head. "Go ahead. Let's see what your security's capable of."
Moments later, two security guards entered, responding to the manager's call. Stocky, uniformed, and posturing like they were ready to make an example, they paused only briefly at the sight of the group seated calmly around the table.
The air shifted.
Miles slid his hands into his pockets, still standing. His gaze remained steady—calm, unbothered, quietly dangerous.
"You called them?" Miles asked, looking past the guards directly at the manager.
The tension in the room rose. And everyone knew—this wasn't going to end like the manager had expected.
One of the security guards glanced at the seated girls—he recognized them. They were regulars here, always polite, always welcomed.
"What are you looking at? Throw them out!" the manager barked.
"But sir…" the guard hesitated.
A new voice cut through the room like a blade. "I gave you one job, and you can't even handle that?"
Everyone turned toward the doorway.
Ryan had arrived.
He strolled in with the smug air of someone used to attention and obedience. Immaculate suit, slicked-back hair, a girl trailing behind him—his secretary.
"These losers are making trouble, Mr. Ryan," the manager sputtered. "Just give me a moment and I'll kick them out."
Ryan looked the group over, his gaze landing dismissively on Miles. "Just throw this boy out," he said with a lazy wave of his hand. "Let the girls stay. It's my treat, ladies. Let's not ruin the night over one freeloader."
Celina stood immediately. Her voice was cold. "Who do you think you are?"
Ryan chuckled, smug. "Does it matter? I can throw money at the problem, and it disappears. He'll leave."
Miles, raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" he said, finally moving his feet. "Then let's see how much you can take out."
Ryan scoffed. "See? Told you. He just wants money."
Miles didn't even look at him. His calm gaze was on the manager now. "You can buy a manager with your cash," he said, slowly walking forward. "But you can't buy me."
The manager's face paled.
Ryan, amused, pulled his wallet from his coat. "Let's settle this, then. Manager, call the owner. I'll buy the whole damn place."
Everyone stared.
And Miles... smiled.
The manager fumbled with his phone, swiping nervously to call the restaurant's owner. Just as his fingers hovered over the contact, another phone buzzed.
Not his.
It was Miles.
Calmly, Miles pulled out his sleek black phone and typed something with one hand.
A simple message.
To Monica:"The Galaxy Restaurant. Shut it down. Now."
He hit send.
The manager, oblivious to what had just been set in motion, nodded. "The boss is on the way. He'll be here in five minutes…"
Meanwhile, in the main dining hall...
Dozens of guests sat enjoying their lavish meals, laughter and clinking glasses echoing throughout the space—until one by one, phones began to buzz.
A notification.
All of them.
Simultaneously.
Every guest checked their phone.
Each screen lit up with a large transfer—along with a chilling note:
"Leave this place now as it is, without saying a single word. Your bills are taken care of."
A beat of stunned silence.
Then… chairs scraped back. Cutlery clinked against plates. One by one, the guests stood, gathered their things, and silently filed out—leaving untouched wine, unfinished meals, and a restaurant that was suddenly empty.
The hum of conversation was gone.
Only silence remained.
Back in the private dining room, a nervous waiter knocked and stepped inside. "S-sir… there's a problem. All the guests... they're leaving."
Ryan looked around in disbelief. "What?"
The manager rushed to the front, eyes wide as he watched the crowd vanish like mist.
Becky blinked. "What the hell just happened?"
Rose whispered, "They're just… gone."
Celina turned to Miles.
He didn't say a word.
Just smiled.
That slow, dangerous grin.
"Let's see who buys a place… with no customers."
Ryan stood frozen, watching the restaurant around him slowly transform into a ghost town.
"What… the hell just happened?" he muttered, still trying to make sense of it.
Just then, the front doors swung open.
A man stormed in—mid-50s, sharply dressed in a charcoal blazer, fury written across his face. The owner of The Galaxy Restaurant.
Without a word, he grabbed the stunned manager by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
"What did you do!?" he shouted, eyes burning.
The manager flailed. "S-sir! I was just—just doing my job!"
The owner's voice trembled with rage. "We just lost every one of our suppliers and corporate partners in ten minutes! I called to ask what happened—every one of them said the same thing."
"You offended people you shouldn't have."
The manager went pale, trembling. "I-I didn't know, I swear! I just asked them to vacate for Mr. Ryan... I didn't—"
Ryan's head snapped toward Miles, who sat calmly at the table with the girls—utterly unfazed.
He wasn't yelling.
He wasn't threatening.
He was just smiling.
Ryan swallowed hard. Did… did he do all this? he wondered.
Miles finally spoke, casually turning his gaze to the restaurant owner."So… you're the owner?"
The man straightened up, still seething, but nodded respectfully."Yes. I'm am the owner . And I deeply apologize—"
Miles raised a hand to stop him.
"No need. There won't be any loss," Miles said, his tone dry with amusement."Mr. Ryan here was just telling us how much money he has. I'm sure he'll be happy to buy out your business to save you."
Miles leaned back and chuckled. "Right, Mr. Ryan?"
Laughter erupted at the table—Celina, Becky, and Rose couldn't hold it in.
Ryan's jaw clenched.
But the real blow came next.
The owner turned toward Celina—and for the first time, his voice softened.
"Miss Wraithbourne… I...I didn't expect you here."
The moment her name dropped, the manager froze—blood draining from his face.
Wraithbourne...?The name was like thunder.
He'd heard it before, whispered in high places—power, legacy, wealth—but never imagined he was throwing out her.
The manager looked at Celina, then at Miles… and realized in horror just who he'd tried to throw out.
He staggered back, nearly losing balance.
"I… I-I didn't know—"
Celina didn't even look at him. She sipped her drink, calm and cold.
Rose whispered to Becky, "We didn't even need to say anything…"
Becky nodded. "He buried himself."
The owner rushed to the table, bypassing Miles entirely, his focus fixed on the three young women seated with dignified grace.
He stopped a few steps short, bowed deeply, and said with trembling sincerity:
"I apologize, Miss Celina… Miss Becky… Miss Rose…"
His voice wavered as he clasped his hands together."This was entirely my fault. I should never have entrusted this restaurant to someone so blind and foolish. We've made a grave mistake."
He lowered his head."Please… I beg you to spare the restaurant. This place—it was my father's dream, his legacy. It's all I have left of him. If this place shuts down, I… I'd be letting him down."
There was a beat of silence.
Celina leaned back slightly, surprised. "But… I didn't do anything," she said gently, before glancing over the owner's shoulder—her eyes settling on Miles, who stood silently behind him.
The owner, sensing something in her pause, slowly turned.
His eyes followed hers—and landed on Miles.
The weight of understanding hit him instantly.
The way Miles had calmly observed everything. The way the entire restaurant emptied on a single command.
The owner's lips parted slightly.
He's the one… He pulled every string without raising his voice.
He turned back to Celina, now fully understanding why she hadn't needed to lift a finger.
He wasn't looking at a group of rich kids.He was looking at the people who could decide whether a place like this continued to exist or disappeared overnight.
And the man standing behind him wasn't just a guest.
He was power, walking quietly.
Ryan's smile slowly faded as he watched the owner grovel and the once-confident manager nearly collapse in fear.
His secretary leaned in close, whispering with urgency."Boss, we shouldn't get involved in this. I just confirmed—those three girls are from major families."Her eyes flicked discreetly to the table."That's Celina Wraithbourne, sole heiress. The others are Becky and Rose. Your father's companies have ongoing ties with all three houses."
Ryan's brows knit together."...And what about the guy?" he asked quietly, eyes narrowing toward Miles, who stood , hands in his pockets, calmly watching the unfolding chaos like it was a rehearsal.
The secretary hesitated."That's the problem. I tried to dig into him just now... and got nothing. No surname, no family links, no public records worth noting. Like he doesn't exist."
Ryan's jaw tensed.In his world, when you can't find anything on someone—they're either a nobody… or someone so high above that even the usual strings don't reach them.
And Miles didn't look like a nobody.He looked like someone who was used to having empires bow quietly at his feet.
"People like that…" Ryan muttered under his breath, "they're never nobodies."
He took a subtle step back.
For the first time in a long time, Ryan Allen—the prince of the Allen family—knew when not to move forward.
And this... this was one of those moments.