Godly Investor: A Hundred Trillion Dollars For Investment And Donations-Chapter 255 -

Upon hearing what the manager just said.

The York family erupted, their voices overlapping in anger and confusion. Serenity’s uncle slammed his hand on the table, his face red with indignation.

"What nonsense is this? When did Mr. Brown ever say he didn’t want to treat us? This is outrageous!"

At that moment Old Master York leaned back in his chair, his fingers tightly gripping his cane as he observed the chaos unfolding before him.

His gaze sharpened, briefly landing on Mr. Brown, whose face had gone pale as a sheet.

"Brown," the old man said slowly, his voice like a blade, "what is the meaning of this? Explain yourself."

Hearing what old master York just said Mr. Brown felt sweat bead on his forehead. His thoughts raced, scrambling for an explanation that could save his rapidly deteriorating image. He swallowed hard, raising his hands defensively.

"Old Master, I assure you, I never said such a thing. This is clearly some kind of misunderstanding," he stammered, his voice trembling.

"Misunderstanding?" Serenity’s uncle barked, his anger directed at both the manager and Brown now. "You’ve been telling us how highly regarded you are at this restaurant, how they treat you like royalty. If that’s true, how is this happening?"

The weight of their accusations pressed heavily on Mr. Brown.

He clenched his fists under the table, desperately trying to maintain his composure. In truth, he had only been to this restaurant once before, and even then, it was a far cry from the VIP treatment he had falsely claimed. But now, the cracks in his story were beginning to show, and he was powerless to stop them from widening.

At that moment his eyes darted to Ethan, who sat silently at the edge of the table, his expression calm but unreadable. Immediately a creeping suspicion began to form in Mr. Brown’s mind, but he quickly dismissed it. No, it couldn’t be him, he thought, shaking his head internally.

"He’s just a nobody tagging along with this family. There’s no way he’s behind this."

He murmured to himself.

"Manager," Old Master York demanded, his voice icy, "who gave the order to revoke our privilege? Surely, you can tell us that much."

The manager hesitated, his professionalism unwavering but clearly uncomfortable under the old man’s scrutiny.

"I’m afraid I cannot disclose the identity of the special guest, sir," he said carefully. "I can only confirm that this decision came directly from them."

The room fell into a heavy silence. Mr. Brown’s mind was spinning, desperately trying to piece together the puzzle. The only person who remained completely unbothered was Ethan, who leaned back in his chair with an air of quiet confidence, watching the scene unfold with detached amusement.

"Ethan," Serenity’s uncle growled suddenly, narrowing his eyes at him.

"You’ve been awfully quiet through all of this. Do you have anything to say?"

At that moment Ethan’s lips curled into a small, enigmatic smile.

"Me? I’m just here to enjoy the company. What could I possibly have to add to such an... illustrious discussion?"

His tone, laced with subtle mockery, made Mr. Brown’s stomach churn. For the first time, he truly felt the weight of Ethan’s presence, and it terrified him more than he cared to admit.

But before he could voice his suspicions, Old Master York raised his hand, signaling for silence.

Then Mr.Brown stood up slowly, adjusting his cuffs with deliberate precision. The subtle movement caught the room’s attention, pulling their eyes toward him. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady and calm, yet it carried an air of undeniable authority.

"Well, since everyone seems confused, let me introduce myself properly," Brown began, his gaze sweeping across the faces in the room.

"I’m Brown. one of the decision makers of the estate of the Godly Investor."

At that moment a wave of silence washed over the room. For a moment, it was as if time itself had paused. Serenity’s uncle’s fork clattered against his plate, and Mr. Brown’s face went completely blank, his jaw slack as the words sank in.

The York family exchanged wide-eyed glances, unsure whether to believe what they were hearing.

The manager, however, maintained his professional demeanor, though his brow furrowed slightly.

"I apologize, sir," he said carefully, his voice respectful yet firm. "But I’m afraid we’re not aware of any special guest by that title. And, if I may clarify, no one has stated that the special guest is the Godly Investor or related to him."

Serenity’s uncle shot to his feet, his face flushed with anger.

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"How dare you speak to Mr. Brown like that? Do you know who he is?" he barked, pointing an accusatory finger at the manager. "Mr. Brown is one of the most influential figures associated with the Godly Investor’s enterprises. He’s practically the right-hand man! He comes here regularly, and this is how you treat him?"

At that moment the manager’s composure remained unshaken, though his gaze flicked briefly to Ethan, searching for any sign of confirmation.

Ethan, for his part, simply raised an eyebrow, a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.

"Sir," the manager said, addressing Serenity’s uncle directly, "we keep meticulous records of our guests, especially our most frequent visitors. I assure you, Mr. Brown’s name does not appear in our registry as a regular patron."

Immediately the air grew thick with tension. Serenity’s uncle sputtered, struggling to form a coherent response.

"That’s ridiculous! This is clearly a mistake. Mr. Brown is a VIP here! You must have overlooked something."

Mr. Brown’s face turned a shade paler as the manager’s words landed like a punch to his gut. He hesitated, glancing nervously around the room.

His confidence, which had only moments ago appeared unshakable, now wavered under the weight of the challenge.

The York family watched him with bated breath, eager for their supposed savior to silence the manager with an undeniable name.

"Well… uh…" Brown stammered, his hands fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve.

"There are… so many people who respect me in this city. It’s… it’s hard to pick just one."

The York family exchanged approving nods and murmurs, their admiration for Mr. Brown seemingly doubling at his declaration. Serenity’s uncle leaned forward, smirking at the manager. "There you have it," he barked. "The man is a legend in this industry! Of course, people are lining up to treat him. You wouldn’t understand a thing about it."

The manager, however, remained unimpressed.

Then he crossed his arms and took a step closer to Brown, his expression hardening.

"I didn’t ask for a list of vague admirers," he said, his voice calm but cutting.

"I asked for one name. Surely, for someone as respected and honored as you claim to be, that shouldn’t be too difficult."

Serenity’s uncle laughed loudly, his booming voice filling the room with a mockery that seemed almost contagious. "The manager must’ve lost his mind!"

he declared, slapping the table. "Come on, Mr. Brown, don’t keep us waiting. Just say the name already and shut him up!"

Immediately all eyes turned to Brown, their expectant gazes boring into him like needles.

However Brown shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his throat dry and his palms sweating. He fumbled with the cuff of his sleeve, avoiding direct eye contact. A few moments of silence passed, and the room grew restless.

"Well?" Serenity’s uncle pressed, leaning forward, his smirk widening. "Who is it? Surely someone as esteemed as you wouldn’t have trouble remembering the name of a generous friend."

However Brown hesitated, the pressure mounting. He felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the room—Ethan’s calm and calculating, Serenity’s curious but concerned, and the York family’s eager yet slowly waning confidence. At that moment he cleared his throat, stalling for time, but the expectant silence was suffocating.

Finally, with a nervous chuckle, Brown leaned back and said, "I… I can’t mention their name."

Immediately the room fell silent. Serenity’s uncle froze, his smirk faltering. "

"What?" he asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and irritation. "What do you mean you can’t mention their name?"

Brown raised a hand, as if to calm the growing tension in the room. "You don’t understand,"

he said quickly, his voice tinged with desperation. "I’m not allowed to disclose their identity. It’s a matter of trust. I can’t betray the confidence of someone who’s shown me such kindness."