"Mr. Sterling... Sir..." Julian choked out, his arrogance crumbling into desperate stammering. "I... I had no idea. If I had known it was you, I would have prepared the private presidential suite immediately! Please allow me to—"
Marcus raised a single hand. Julian’s voice died in his throat.
Marcus took his card back, slipping it into his pocket. He turned to face not just Julian and Victoria, but every guest and staff member currently holding up a phone in the room.
"You treated me like a nobody because you didn't know who I was," Marcus’s voice echoed across the vaulted ceiling with razor-sharp clarity. "That proves that your courtesy is a performance, reserved only for wealth and power, while your cruelty is your true nature."
He turned back toward Julian and Victoria, his tone devoid of anger, carrying only the absolute weight of executive authority.
"You are relieved of your duties immediately. Hand your badges to security and clear your lockers. You have ten minutes to vacate the premises."
Marcus then addressed the head of security and the remaining floor staff.
"From this night forward, every individual who walks through these doors is to be treated with dignity, respect, and hospitality—regardless of what they wear, what they look like, or what is in their bank accounts. If anyone on this staff fails that standard, you will follow Mr. Vance out the door."
Without waiting for an apology or applause, Marcus walked past the stunned crowd, through the dining floor, and took a seat at a quiet corner table—ready to rebuild his establishment from the ground up.