Olivia’s POV

“Excuse me, but I’d like to focus on the project,” I said, maintaining a calm exterior while inwardly fuming. I knew Alexander was unpredictable, but this was beyond comprehension. Why on earth had he bought this restaurant? Did he have nothing better to do with his fortune? And why claim he’d put it in my name?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Vaughn, but what do you mean you bought the restaurant for her?” Ethan asked, utterly bewildered.

“After everything you went through here, Olivia, you can now do whatever you want to settle the score,” Alexander said, his eyes locked on me, completely disregarding Ethan.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, stunned. What was he playing at?

“Waiter!” Alexander called, and a staff member approached our table.

“Yes, Mr. Vaughn?” the waiter asked.

“Get Antoine, please,” Alexander requested, and my eyes widened slightly.

Antoine Dubois was the chef and manager of Charme. Years ago, when I worked here, this man had fired me in the most callous way, blaming me and throwing me out like I was a criminal. Alexander’s sly smile told me he knew I remembered Antoine’s name. What was he scheming?

“What’s going on here?” Ethan asked, sensing the tension. I shot him a pleading look before turning to Alexander.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked quietly.

“I’m just giving you what you deserve,” he replied, his tone resolute.

“Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn, you called for me?” Antoine asked as he approached. “Is there an issue with the food?”

“The food is excellent, as always,” Alexander said, then gestured toward me with his eyes. “Do you remember her?” he asked the chef.

Antoine studied me, confusion etched on his face as he tried to place me. “My apologies, Mr. Vaughn, but we see so many faces here daily, it’s hard to keep track. I’d be delighted to be introduced,” he said with his usual polished charm. Even after all these years, he was still an insufferable sycophant.

“You don’t remember her?” Alexander pressed, clearly enjoying himself. “She’s different now—more beautiful, with a captivating spark. But she used to work here.”

“Oh, what a delightful surprise!” Antoine exclaimed, his thick French accent coloring his words. “It’s wonderful to see you again, madam. You must have worked in the administrative offices, which would explain why I don’t recall you clearly.”

“I was a janitor,” I said, my voice edged with frustration. “I scrubbed floors and bathrooms, washed dishes, and filled in as a waitress when one of your regular staff was absent.”

Antoine blinked, visibly confused, struggling to reconcile how a former cleaning lady was now a VIP guest dining with Alexander Vaughn himself. I sighed, eager to end this. “I’ve seen my old boss, Mr. Vaughn. Are you satisfied? Can we move on to business now?”

“Slow down, darling,” Alexander said, turning to Antoine. “You really don’t remember her?” The chef shrugged, fear creeping into his eyes as he sensed trouble. Alexander let out a mocking laugh.

“How could you forget? You fired her so brutally because she upset me during that dinner. You don’t remember, Antoine?” His voice rose to an angry shout, my eyes widened, and my heart pounded.

“A thousand apologies, sir. Please forgive this old man’s faulty memory, devoted as I am to the kitchen,” Antoine stammered, trembling with fear.

“Do you know why I bought this place, Antoine?” Alexander snapped. “Because of that damned day. That awful day when you and I were so cruel to her. Do you think I could find peace after that?”

His words were harsh, and Antoine cowered further. The entire room was now glancing at our table, drawn to the commotion. “You’re worthless, Antoine!” Alexander spat, then turned to me. “This restaurant is in your name, Olivia. You own it. So fire him!”

“What?” I gasped, stunned.

“Fire him. Make him pay for what he did to you. Be as ruthless as he was. Don’t hold back—fire him!” Alexander urged, his tone commanding.

“Mr. Vaughn, please forgive me,” Antoine pleaded, dropping to his knees before Alexander. “This restaurant is my life. Please don’t fire me.”

“You’re begging me, you miserable fool? I just said she’s the boss here, and you’re still pleading with me?” Alexander looked affronted. Antoine, desperate, crawled toward me, kneeling at my side.

“Please, madam, I’m so sorry. Forgive my actions,” he begged. Seeing him in such a humiliating state stirred conflicting emotions within me.

I placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Please, stand up, Mr. Dubois. There’s nothing to forgive. Just get up and go on your way.” My voice was firm, though I fought back tears.

I wouldn’t cry now—I’d save that for later. What Antoine had done to me that day was inhumane; it caused me pain and hardship. But I didn’t want this. I wouldn’t fire anyone. It wasn’t entirely his fault—he’d acted on Alexander’s influence. That man, that demon, was the true source of all my suffering.

Antoine’s face was a mix of relief and confusion, but he nodded, stood, and left with a small bow. Alexander stared at me, his expression one of awe.

“Incredible,” he said. “Even after all these years, you still have that kind, humble heart, Olivia.” He smiled as if seeing sunlight after years in darkness. I wanted to snap, “Yes, I’m still kind—unlike you,” but instead, I stood.

“Enough of your games, Alexander Vaughn,” I said firmly. “I came here to discuss my project, and I want personal matters left out. If we’re not talking business, I’m leaving.” My tone was serious, and I meant every word.