Chapter 5

"Looks like everyone's here," Ryan said, standing up and raising his glass, looking every bit the successful entrepreneur.

"Thanks for coming tonight. This dinner is not just to celebrate me being the top scorer in the state, but also a send-off. From now on, my path might be very different from yours."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over me, and added with a meaningful look, "Life's worth isn't about where you come from, it's about whether you have the guts to go after what you really want, even if it means making sacrifices."

As soon as he said that, a few people at the table kept sneaking glances at me.

I picked up my glass of water, took a slow sip, my face giving nothing away.

Ryan saw I wasn't reacting, and his eyes flashed with irritation for a second, but he didn't push it any further.

He started ordering.

When the menu landed in Ryan's hands, he flipped through it like he owned the place, smooth and confident, as if he'd done this a million times.

"Three lobsters, steamed grouper, black truffle abalone, foie gras lamb chops..." He fired off the names at breakneck speed, only going for the most expensive stuff. "And for wine, let's get two bottles of Lafite, 2005."

The waiter was jotting everything down, hands actually trembling.

One of the guys leaned over and whispered, "Ryan, how much is this gonna set you back?"

Ryan just waved it off, cool as ever. "It's nothing, just dig in. Don't bother trying to save me money."

Emily snuggled up to him, smiling like she just won the lottery, her whole face glowing with happiness.

I propped my chin on my hand, watching their act, almost cracking up.

Dish after dish kept coming out of the kitchen.

Ryan played the perfect host, raising his glass, cracking jokes, and working the room like he owned it.

He started bragging about his future plans, how he'd build everything from scratch and blow everyone's minds with what he'd accomplish.

He sounded so sure of himself, like he was about to hit it big tomorrow.

The whole table was eating it up, raising their glasses and hyping him up.

"Man, Ryan, you're gutsy as hell."

"I still can't believe you gave up Harvard and MIT."

"That's real boss energy, shine wherever you go!"

Ryan held his glass, his smirk getting bigger and bigger.

After a few drinks, he got even more chatty.

After a few rounds, Ryan suddenly set his glass down and looked straight at me.

"Charlotte," he slurred, that drunken smugness all over his face. "Didn't you always look down on me? Always said I was mooching off the Fosters, right? Yet here you are, enjoying my dinner. What's up with that?"

The whole room went dead silent.

Every fork in the room froze in midair.

I leisurely picked up a piece of abalone, popped it into my mouth, chewed slowly, and only then looked up at him.

"When did I ever say I looked down on you?" I tilted my head, a teasing smile on my lips. "Honestly, you're kind of a riot. I'm just here to mooch a free meal, why are you getting all worked up?"

Ryan's face darkened for a split second.

Emily tugged at his sleeve, her voice all soft and sweet. "Ryan, just let it go. Maybe Charlotte's just still hung up on you. Don't let it bother you."

Then she turned to me, her face all innocent, but her words had a bite. "Charlotte, I get that this might be hard for you, but Ryan's my boyfriend now.

"Even if you're not over him, he's not coming back to you. So just stop clinging to him, okay?"

I almost choked on my lobster when I heard that.

I couldn't believe it. They really had some nerve.

Where did these two even get their confidence from?

I set my fork down, wagged a finger at the two of them, and shook my head.

"You two," I said, pointing at Ryan and then at Emily. "Seriously, you're dreaming. I'm just here for the entertainment, so don't flatter yourselves. Hung up? Clinging? Please, who do you think you are?"

Ryan's face went completely dark.

He was just about to say something when the waiter walked in, holding the bill.

"Sir, would you like to pay now?"

Ryan, clearly annoyed at being interrupted, waved his hand impatiently. "Bring it over."

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his wallet.

He moved with that effortless swagger, like he owned the place.

Even the way he pulled out his card was smooth, like he'd done it a thousand times.

He slipped the card between two fingers and passed it over to the waiter.

For a split second, he looked like he had the world in his pocket, totally sure of himself.

Old habits die hard, especially when you've spent a lifetime doing it.

For eighty years, he'd always paid like this. He never even bothered to check the bill, since the Foster Family's account was always loaded.

But now, after coming back to life, everything had changed.

The card Ryan was holding was the one my dad had given him before the SAT, a supplementary card on our family account.

Except my dad had already shut it down a few hours ago.

The waiter took the card with both hands and swiped it through the mobile POS machine.

The machine beeped.

"Sir," the waiter said, looking a bit awkward. "This card's frozen. It won't work."

Ryan froze.

The whole room went dead silent again.

Everyone's eyes were glued to him.

Ryan frowned, then pulled out another card and handed it over.

"Try this one," he said, a bit impatient.

The waiter took it and swiped it through the machine again.

"Sorry, sir, this one's got insufficient funds too."

Ryan's expression shifted again, this time with real worry.

He rifled through his wallet, his face getting gloomier by the second.

Emily leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper, "Ryan, what's wrong?"

Ryan brushed her off and told the waiter, "Hold on."