CHAPTER 503: WHAT’S HERS IS HERS

Selina didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm. "Sure. I’ll wait."

Angela nearly choked. She thought Selina should’ve been grateful she was even offered this "favor," but instead she had the nerve to just sit there, acting like she didn’t care—when obviously, she was waiting just as eagerly.

Fine, let her wait. Once the owner of Celestial Feast arrived, Selina would be nothing more than a bystander, forced to watch Angela chat with the owner while pretending not to care. Just imagining it was exhilarating.

Angela, now feeling smug, announced, "Everyone, take your seats. I asked earlier—the owner is here, probably just busy for now, but they’ll come find me in a bit."

She turned to Robinson. "About your situation, I’ll speak on your behalf. It wasn’t all your fault, no reason you should bear it alone."

The class rep, Robinson, put down his fork and lit up with excitement. "Thank you, Miss Morris. You’re so kind."

Angela gave a modest smile. "Don’t thank me. I just can’t stand seeing that woman act out. Don’t worry—the owner of Celestial Feast must be someone reasonable."

The group began to chime in with flattery.

"You truly see things clearly, Miss Morris."

"Exactly, I didn’t even want to make a big deal with that Taylor Group maid. It was mutual, but now she’s making it sound like I did her wrong. She’s the one trying to make trouble. I had no choice but to fight back!"

Selina’s eyes turned cold.

That maid was forced into something, yet Angela—also a woman—was defending the aggressor, calling the victim unreasonable.

Trying to impress Angela, Robinson turned to her again. "Miss Morris, I heard Celestial Feast has a dish that’s limited to only three servings per day—except for the owner’s friends and family. Do you think you could help us get a taste?"

The rumor was true.

Celestial Feast had a premium dish called the White Truffle Lobster Bisque, made with rare ingredients and a complicated recipe. Only three bowls were served each day—unless the order came from the owner’s personal guests.

Angela’s eyes lit up. That’s it. Why didn’t she think of this earlier?

If the owner was willing to make an exception for her, it would be the perfect power move—and the best way to humiliate Selina.

She turned with faux innocence. "Sister, would you like to try it?"

Selina raised an amused brow. "That depends if the owner agrees."

Angela hesitated briefly. She hadn’t actually met the owner yet. Would they agree?

Still, she was the Morris Family’s daughter. No matter what, the owner was a businessman. They wouldn’t dare turn her down.

Hungry for that look of envy from Selina, Angela signaled for a server.

But it wasn’t a server who entered—it was the manager of Celestial Feast.

He exchanged a glance with Selina, then turned to Angela with a neutral expression. "Miss Morris, how can I help you?"

Angela gave Selina a smug look. "My friend heard about your limited White Truffle Lobster Bisque and is curious to try it."

The manager smiled. "Unfortunately, today’s White Truffle Lobster Bisque has already sold out."

Angela was just about to object when the manager added politely, "However, may I ask who exactly is requesting it?"

Angela’s confidence grew—this wasn’t just a server, but the manager. Clearly, Celestial Feast valued her greatly.

There was no way they’d turn her down now.

She decided to push things further and motioned to Robinson, who immediately shoved Selina forward.

No one noticed the manager’s expression darken instantly. Angela, still pretending to be sweet and innocent, added softly:

"It’s for my sister. Sorry, Manager, she can be a little headstrong. She knows the White Truffle Lobster Bisque is limited to just three portions, but still..."

The manager cut her off without missing a beat. "Very well. Please wait a moment. One portion of the White Truffle Lobster Bisque is currently being kept warm for the owner. Since this young lady wishes to try it, I’ll have it brought over immediately."

Angela played coy. "But it’s for the owner... won’t this be too presumptuous of me?"

"No trouble. I’m sure the owner will approve of my decision," the manager replied calmly, then turned to leave. Before exiting, he shot a quick glance at Selina—brief but deliberate—and gave the faintest nod.

Angela was practically vibrating with triumph. "Sister, do you still doubt that I’m friends with the owner? If I weren’t, why would the manager be so respectful?"

Selina leaned back in her chair with a lazy smile. "Mm. You’re right."

Robinson took the cue and started pouring on the praise. Half an hour passed in flattery and anticipation before the manager returned, pushing open the door once more.

He walked in carrying a tray with a single elegant bowl.

Angela’s eyes lit up. She stood with a smile, ready to receive it. "Manager..."

But the manager didn’t even glance her way.

He walked straight over to Selina and placed the bowl in front of her. "Miss Clark, please enjoy."

Angela froze.

Wait... what?

She was the one who asked for the dish—why was it going to Selina?

Trying to save face, she put on a gentle expression. "Thank you for coming all this way, Manager. Sister, how can you be so rude? The manager brought you this dish personally, and you don’t even thank him."

The manager’s voice dropped an octave. "It’s my honor to serve this guest."

Angela’s throat tightened. What the hell is wrong with this guy?

Selina took a sip. The rich, complex flavor exploded across her palate. She nodded approvingly. "It’s excellent."

The manager beamed. "I’m glad you enjoy it."

As Selina lifted her spoon for a second bite, Angela finally snapped. "Sister, Dad always said we shouldn’t be selfish. Good things are meant to be shared—especially since this dish was only brought out because of my connection to the owner. How can you just—"

Was Selina and this manager seriously not getting it? Did they not realize who the real guest of honor was?

She was the one favored by the owner of Celestial Feast—why was this manager orbiting Selina like she was the VIP?

And Selina—did she really believe that this dish was hers?

Selina put her spoon down and looked at her calmly. "You want some too?"

Want some? Angela was seething. That dish was hers to begin with!

Before she could speak, Robinson stepped forward obsequiously, eager to back her up. "Selina, I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re being incredibly selfish!"

"That dish was a gift from the owner to Miss Morris. How could you hog it all to yourself?"

As he reached out to snatch the bowl, the manager’s expression hardened and he moved fast—intercepting Robinson’s hand with a firm grip.

"Stop," the manager said sharply, his voice now cold and commanding.