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!"

voice hushed but furious. "They didn't just copy the look; they

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

her critique mood, loudly commented. "Their chicken sauce is over-reduced by

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

us wearily. "I heard you complaining about our

the restaurant we visited yesterday. Their sauce was

and

just drawing a comparison," I

case, I

so things don't escalate and our covers are blown. But fortunately, the other

a mere glance at the dish with my experienced and professional eyes, I

politely. "Excuse me, but I believe this chicken

it's meant to be served," he said dismissively. "Perhaps you're unfamiliar with international cuisine? This is inspired by the Japanese and

been to Japan and

up a spoon and scooped up some rice. The texture was off, and the smell

tone sharp. "Maybe we should take a sample to a lab. You

a straight face as he added,

escalate, I stood, carefully placing my napkin on the table. "Excuse me," I said, shooting Stephen and Rebecca

coughed and rose from my seat.

right back," I

the restroom, grateful for

I whispered, staring at my reflection

my hands, 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

spread rumors about their food quality,"

fake online review campaign on their app. She thinks she can just waltz back from Italy and outshine us," a man added, his tone dripping with

froze, every muscle tensing. Were they talking about my

going down soon,"

reeling. Once I was sure they wouldn't notice me, I slipped out of the restroom, my

up,

Sunging

to leave. Now," I said, my voice

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

her expression both curious

mouthed, gesturing