Chapter III: The Call to the Attorneys
Victor let out a mocking sneer, turning on his heel to walk back toward the host stand.
At the table, the old man slowly set down his fork. The frail, helpless demeanor vanished entirely. His posture straightened, and an air of quiet, formidable authority filled his eyes.
He reached inside the weathered lining of his denim jacket, pulled out a black smartphone, and pressed a direct line.
Holding the receiver to his ear, he spoke in a low, unmistakable tone that commanded absolute obedience:
"He gave me his dinner."
There was an immediate, tense response on the other end.
"Bring my attorneys. To L’Aura. Right now."
Leo, who was unfastening the strings of his apron, turned around in confusion.
Outside the glass windows, two sleek black luxury sedans cut through the rain, their headlights cutting bright beams across the wet sidewalk as they pulled directly up to the restaurant's valet entrance.