“Excuse me, miss!” The waitress in the lead smiled at Leila, who stared with mouth gaping wide as a feast was laid out upon the table before Gerald.

“Huh? What?” Leila stuttered for a moment, then exclaimed, “Hey, hey, hey! There must be some mistake—you’ve got the wrong table!”

Anyone could tell that it was a sumptuous meal worth a small fortune—at least five hundred dollars or more—and it was meant for Gerald?

Leila had always held him in contempt as a man with nothing to his name. One time, she’d let slip that their fathers had been arranging for them to be married, and it had made her a complete laughing stock.

“Hey, Leila! Somewhere on a far away farm, your fiancé’s waiting for you!” She could still see those mocking grins vividly at the back of her mind.

It had been the greatest source of misery in her life. She never spoke of it, but it was always on her mind. As a symbol of her humiliation, she utterly despised Gerald Crawford.

And yet, Gerald was eating so well right now