Chapter 371: Chapter 370: Dinner With Sterlings
"Explains why you sounded like a walking Wikipedia just now," he muttered.
Vivienne caught the comment, lips twitching in amusement.
Around the table, smiles flickered. Some of the younger Sterlings found his bluntness refreshing. Some of the older ones... didn’t much.
Anyways, the private dining room at the top of the Sterling Hotel didn’t look like something built for eating. It looked like a stage. The kind of place where history was written, deals worth billions signed, and politicians got drunk enough to say the truth out loud.
A long, polished mahogany table gleamed under the soft light of chandeliers, the air faintly perfumed by lilies placed in cut-crystal vases. Heavy curtains drawn half-shut against the Los Angeles skyline, .The long table stretched like a runway, already set with crystal goblets, heavy silverware, and centerpieces that looked like they belonged in a museum, and the walls bore paintings Rex had only ever seen referenced in coffee-table art books.
For most, it would have been intimidating. For Rex, it was just another reminder that he was dining in the realm of the top one percent.
Please," Vivienne said warmly, gesturing to the seat at her right, directly across from Henry Sterling. He slid into it without thinking, only realizing after settling in that it was, in fact, the head seat... an honor he hadn’t sought, but one he understood carried weight in circles like these. Not that it mattered to him... he wasn’t the type to fuss over seating arrangements. But he knew families like the Sterlings, steeped in generations of old money, paid close attention to things like that. It was subtle, but it said a lot. The gesture wasn’t just about etiquette, it again goes on to show the sincerity of the Sterling family.
Of course, when thinking that he saved the life of their only grandkid, yes, despite it being a pretty big family, Arabella is the only young kid in the main family. Of course excluding the distant branches, offshoots scattered across cities and continents.
Arabella was the heart of the family, their future. And it made all the sense to treat him with this much respect, as he had practically risked his life to save her, not that he thought that it would lead him to one of the wealthiest family in the world. But hey—life’s weird and unexpected like that.
Around the table, smiles flickered. Some of the younger Sterlings found his bluntness refreshing. Some of the older ones... didn’t.
Rex sat, acutely aware of the weight of gazes. He wasn’t used to this. Sure, he’d sat with friends, classmates, coworkers at cheap diners. But here? Surrounded by one of the wealthiest families in Los Angeles? This was different. He wasn’t sure if he was the guest of honor or a lab specimen under observation.
An older man at the far end leaned forward slightly, his white hair combed back neatly. Henry Sterling. The patriarch. The kind of presence that needed no introduction, quiet authority in every line of his posture.
"Rex," Henry’s voice carried without needing volume. Warm but firm, like a grandfather who could hug you or crush you with equal ease. "We’ve already thanked you once. But I would like to thank you again on behalf of whole Sterling family. Not in passing, not with shallow words... but sincerely, from the depths of a father’s heart. You saved Arabella. You gave us back our sunshine. There are no words sufficient for that."
"My granddaughter means the world to us. What you did..." He paused, his gaze steady. "...not everyone would have stepped in."
Rex shifted, scratching his jaw. "Honestly, anyone would’ve. I just happened to be there."
"False modesty doesn’t suit you," Henry said lightly, lifting his glass. "So allow me to say it plain: you have our respect."
The Sterlings raised their glasses in a unified, graceful motion. Crystal clinked. The kind of thing Rex had only seen in movies.
He awkwardly lifted his water glass, muttering, "Uh, cheers."
Noah immediately cut the solemnity with, "Cheers to my new brother-in-arms, savior of damsels, destroyer of villains, consumer of ridiculous food portions!"
"Sit down, idiot," one of the aunts said, smacking him with her folded napkin.
...
Just then, as if cued by invisible stagehands, (of course in this case it was probably all planned up) the doors at the far end of the hall opened. A procession of chefs streamed in, each in pristine whites wheeling in carts, each covered with gleaming domes. A lineup like a United Nations summit, except with knives instead of microphones.
The air changed instantly, aromas trailing in behind them, a heady mix of butter, spice, and something faintly oceanic.
Henry gestured toward Rex, smiling faintly. "Since we didn’t know what you’d prefer, we asked a few of the finest chefs we could trust to prepare their specialties. Consider it... a small gesture."
"Small?" Rex muttered under his breath as he caught sight of the faces.
"Holy—" Rex whispered. "Is that... is that the guy from he TV show?"
He recognized some of them. Not vaguely, not distantly... he had seen some of these chefs on television, in glossy magazine spreads, in viral clips on social media. Chefs people saved years just to taste from once.
It was. Chef Martin Duval, the French culinary genius. As he had been exploring more and more of this world, he had once binge-watched in a cooking documentary, and now he was personally carrying in a lobster dish. Behind him came a Japanese sushi master he vaguely remembered from a social media clip about Michelin stars. And there... a Chinese chef who’d been featured in an article about Beijing’s forbidden imperial recipes.
Rex nearly choked. These were the chefs people booked months in advance, if they were lucky. And here they were, lined up like they’d just been told to cook for the Queen. And now they were here, serving him dinner like it was Tuesday.
Damn... he muttered internally, rich people reallydo eat on a different difficulty setting.Dishes that most folks would never even smell in their whole lives are being tossed around here like party snacks.
(End of Chapter)