Mr billionaire's regret chasing his irresistible wife by Gabby Emmanuel

The velvet Fork

(ARIELLE'S POV)

So this was it-The Velvet Fork, our rival restaurant.

"We're going deep undercover," Stephen declared, adjusting his fake mustache and patting down the ridiculous green wig perched on his head.

I sighed, already regretting agreeing to this. "Are you sure that disguise won't just make you more obvious?"

"Obvious? Ha! You're the obvious one!" Rebecca retorted, tilting her enormous sunhat so low it practically swallowed her face. Her oversized sunglasses weren't helping her blend in, either.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Neither of you can talk. We all look like a bad comedy sketch."

"Speak for yourself," Stephen said with mock indignation, twirling his fake mustache. "I'm a method actor. This is art."

I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head at their antics. Once inside, I managed to steer us toward something resembling a logical plan. "Let's get a table, place an order, and observe their operations," I suggested, adjusting my own dark shades. Stephen straightened his wig. "Got it. Time to give an Oscar-worthy performance."

Rebecca smiled mischievously. "Time to put my spy skills into use and gather as much intel as we need."

We spotted an empty table of three and approached, taking our seats. Afterwards, we beckoned a waiter, and he handed us a menu.

As we skimmed through, our eyes widened in unison. I quickly forced a neutral expression when the waiter asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no, not at all," I said with a too-bright smile, handing back the menu. "Your design is... impressive."

He smiled, his face relaxing. "Can I take your orders now?"

"Of course. I'll have grilled chicken and rice," I said.

"And I'll have the chicken parmesan," Stephen chimed.

"I will have the vegetarian quinoa bowl," Rebecca said.

The waiter scribbled the orders on his iPad before walking away. The moment he was out of earshot, Stephen, who was already fuming, spoke up.

"That menu is a ripoff! It's basically ours! Even the design!"

just copy the look; they stole your recipes. This is

weren't wrong. "It's infuriating, but let's not make

commented. "Their chicken sauce is over-reduced by

was nearby and he seemed to have overheard Rebecca as he looked

us wearily. "I heard you complaining about

the restaurant we visited yesterday. Their sauce was nothing

Stephen and I

just drawing a comparison," I

was the case, I heard her clearly," he said

our covers are blown. But fortunately,

glance at the dish with my experienced and professional eyes, I knew instantly that it was

the waiter politely. "Excuse me, but I believe this chicken

waiter's expression didn't even flicker. "That's how it's meant to be served," he said dismissively. "Perhaps you're unfamiliar

to Japan and Spain.

texture was off, and the smell was unpleasant-a mix of

we should take a sample to a lab.

straight face as he added, "Or a journalist. 'Velvet Fork serves

things could escalate, I stood, carefully placing my napkin on the table. "Excuse me," I said,

and rose from my seat. Rebecca and Stephen's

be right back," I reassured

the restroom, grateful for

whispered, staring at my

the steady rhythm helping to calm my racing nerves. With my emotions under control adjusted my muffler and prepared to leave. But just ast turned, hushed voices drifted from the next

then we spread rumors about their food quality," a woman's

She thinks she can just waltz

muscle tensing. Were

place is going

cold. Heart pounding, I stepped back as silently as possible, my mind reeling. Once I was sure they wouldn't notice

up, alarmed. "What's

Sunging

leave. Now," I

cracked as his wig shifted dangerously on his head. "Whoa, keep it together!" I whispered, hurriedly adjusting the lopsided wig before it could plunge into

her expression both curious and concerned. "Arielle, what's

gesturing for