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!"

didn't just

my teeth. They weren't wrong. "It's infuriating, but let's not make a scene," I said,

"Their chicken sauce is over-reduced by the way, and the ingredients

as he looked in

a problem?" He asked, eyeing us wearily. "I heard you complaining about

restaurant we visited yesterday. Their sauce was

Stephen and

a comparison," I added

sure that was the case, I heard

intervene again so things don't escalate and our covers are blown. But fortunately, the other waiter arrived with our

with my experienced and professional eyes, I knew instantly that it was

the waiter politely. "Excuse me, but I believe this chicken isn't fully cooked. Could you

he said dismissively. "Perhaps you're unfamiliar with international cuisine? This is inspired by the Japanese and

been to Japan and Spain. That's not a 'style'; that's a health hazard,

a spoon and scooped up some rice. The texture was

chimed in, her tone sharp. "Maybe we should take a sample to a lab.

keep a straight face as he added, "Or a journalist.

things could escalate, I stood, carefully placing my napkin on the

my seat. Rebecca and Stephen's concerned gaze followed

back,"

restroom, grateful for a

I whispered, staring at my reflection in

nerves. With my

about their food quality," a woman's voice said,

review campaign on their app. She thinks she can just waltz back

muscle tensing. Were they talking

place is going

ran cold. Heart pounding, I stepped back as silently as possible, my mind reeling. Once I was sure they wouldn't notice me, I slipped out of the restroom, my legs moving on autopilot

up,

Sunging

Now," I said, my voice sharp

voice cracked as his wig shifted dangerously on his

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

mouthed, gesturing for