Chapter 2 - The Unpaid Bill
At 2:30 PM, the atmosphere inside The Prime Cut—Chicago’s most exclusive downtown steakhouse—was immaculate.
Jasper Vance leaned back in his leather booth, swirling a glass of two-hundred-dollar Cabernet Sauvignon. Sitting across from him was his mother, Gillian, dressed in a new designer cardigan that Jasper had bought her with his company corporate card, and his younger sister, Chloe, who was busy taking selfies with her phone set against the backdrop of the restaurant's famous wine cellar.
"I'm telling you, Jasper, she's doing this on purpose," Gillian said, cutting into her prime dry-aged ribeye with a silver knife. "Taking so long to get home, probably crying to her low-class father about how hard birth is. Women in my day didn't make such a production out of a simple delivery."
"Mom, please," Jasper said, though his tone held no real conviction. He took a sip of his wine, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through his chest. "Hailey just lacks endurance. Her father was a small-time residential contractor, remember? She comes from fragile stock. She doesn't have the stamina for high society."
"Well, she’s lucky you took pity on her," Chloe chimed in, adjusting her lip gloss. "When Vance Innovations goes public next year, you’re going to be on the cover of Forbes. You could have married an heiress or a senator's daughter, not some girl whose idea of fine dining is a local diner."
Jasper smiled, rubbing his chin. He liked the sound of that. Cover of Forbes.
He pulled out his phone to check his calendar. He had a 4:00 PM virtual conference with Harrison Capital—the lead venture capital firm that had promised a fifty-million-dollar Series A funding round for his cloud logistics platform.
He noticed Hailey hadn't replied to his text message about the tea set.
A flash of irritation crossed his face. "She's ignoring my texts. Unbelievable. I give her a comfortable house, I pay for the hospital, and she can't even acknowledge a simple request."
"Don't let her ruin our celebration, darling," Gillian said smoothly, reaching across the table to pat his hand. "When we get to the house, I'll have a talk with her. She needs to understand that a man of your stature cannot be burdened with domestic emotional outbursts."
"Sir?"
A tall waiter in a sharp black tuxedo stepped up to the table, holding a silver tray with a leather-bound bill folder.
Jasper waved his hand casually. "Ah, yes. Put it on the house corporate account. Vance Innovations."
The waiter hesitated, his expression polite but noticeably rigid. "I apologize, Mr. Vance. We attempted to run the corporate card on file five minutes ago. The charge was declined."
Jasper’s eyebrows knuckled together in confusion. "Declined? That’s impossible. There’s a two-hundred-thousand-dollar credit line on that corporate Master card."
"It came back as Account Revoked, sir," the waiter explained softly, keeping his voice down so as not to disturb nearby diners. "We also tried the secondary Amex linked to your account. It came back with a status code indicating the account had been closed by the primary guarantor."
Gillian stopped chewing, her fork hovering in mid-air. "What is the meaning of this? Do you know who my son is? He’s the CEO of Vance Innovations!"
"Mom, stay calm," Jasper snapped, though a sudden knot of tension formed in his gut. He reached into his leather wallet and pulled out his personal black credit card—the one he rarely used because he preferred charging everything to the company. "Use this one."
The waiter took the card, bowed slightly, and walked back toward the front register.
"Probably a bank glitch," Jasper said, forcing a nervous chuckle as he took another gulp of wine. "The servers at First National have been undergoing software updates all week."
Two minutes later, the waiter returned. This time, he was accompanied by the restaurant’s floor manager—a broad-shouldered man with a stern expression.
"Mr. Vance," the manager said, placing the personal black card back onto the table. "This card has also been declined. Furthermore, our system indicates a legal administrative hold has been placed on all personal accounts associated with your Social Security number."
The air in the booth instantly grew ice-cold.
"What?!" Jasper stood up, his face flushing dark red. "Are you out of your mind?! Are you accusing me of not being able to pay a four-hundred-dollar lunch bill?!"
"We aren't accusing you of anything, sir," the manager said smoothly, his voice dropping into a tone that alerted two large security guards standing near the front entrance. "We simply require a valid form of payment for the services rendered today. Four hundred and eighty-seven dollars, plus tax."
Chloe gasped, clutching her designer purse. "Jasper, do something! People are looking at us!"
Several diners at adjacent tables were indeed turning around, whispering and pointing.
Jasper’s hands began to sweat. He pulled out his phone and frantically opened his mobile banking app.
The screen loaded, spun for three seconds, and displayed a bright red warning banner across the top:
ACCOUNT STATUS: FROZEN BY COURT ORDER / GUARANTOR REVOCATION.
AVAILABLE BALANCE: $0.00.
Panic—sharp, cold, and blinding—slapped Jasper across the face. He looked at his mother, whose face had gone completely white.
"Mom..." Jasper stammered, his bravado evaporating in an instant. "Do... do you have your card?"
Gillian looked horrified. "My card? Jasper, you told me to leave my purse in the car! I only brought my lipstick!"
"Chloe?!" Jasper whipped his head toward his sister.
"I... I only have twenty dollars cash!" Chloe whimpered, her eyes wide with humiliation. "I thought you were paying!"
The floor manager folded his arms across his chest. "Mr. Vance. Unless you can provide physical cash or a valid card within five minutes, we will be forced to call the Chicago Police Department to handle an unpaid service charge."
Sweat began to pour down Jasper’s neck. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crisp hundred-dollar bill he had kept for tipping the valet. It wasn't enough. He scrambled through his wallet, pulling out every scrap of cash he had—totaling three hundred and twenty dollars.
"This... this is three hundred and forty dollars," Jasper hissed, thrusting the cash into the manager's hands. "Keep my watch as collateral! I'll come back in an hour with the rest!"
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He unbuckled his gold-plated watch—a watch he had bought to look rich in front of investors—and slammed it onto the table.
Without waiting for the manager’s response, Jasper grabbed his coat, grabbed his mother’s arm, and practically dragged his family out of the restaurant through the side entrance, his heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird.
