EPISODE23:- THE TABLE OF SILENCE
705 Words
The ride to The Sovereign Imperial Table felt endless.
The three girls filled the back seat with perfume and complaints.
“Thank God we’re out of that smelling car,” one said loudly as they stepped onto the marble driveway. “I swear the air inside was dying.”
Leo ignored them and walked toward the glass doors.
The building rose like a palace—silver-tinted windows, chandeliers glowing even from the street. The girls hung back, whispering that a man like him would never make it past the gate.
Then, as Leo reached the entrance, the doors slid open on their own.
A calm digital voice spoke from hidden speakers:
“Welcome home, Master Leo Grayson, to The Sovereign Imperial Table.”
The security guards straightened instantly.
Their polished shoes clicked in unison as they bowed slightly.
Gasps rippled behind him.
The three girls froze mid-sentence.
Leo turned, gesturing toward them. “They’re with me.”
At once the guards stepped aside, nodding respectfully.
“Of course, sir.”
The girls exchanged stunned looks before hurrying after him, their heels tapping the marble like applause. Inside, the air smelled of roses and cedar wood, and the floor shone like water. Crystal lights shimmered overhead; music played softly from a live string quartet.
One of the girls whispered, “This place… it’s more beautiful than I imagined,” and quickly pulled out her phone to record the moment. They filmed the chandeliers, the sweeping staircase, and the velvet seating — careful not to point the lens toward Leo, who seemed grateful for their distraction.
“Friends,” another giggled nervously into the camera, “look who finally made it inside The Sovereign Imperial Table!”
She didn’t dare tag him; no one knew who he truly was.
From the far end of the dining hall, the Head Chef, dressed in white and gold, came forward.
“Master Leo,” he greeted warmly, bowing. “It’s an honor. Your table has been prepared.”
The girls stared, speechless, as the chef led them past the velvet ropes to an upper tier overlooking the entire restaurant—an area normally reserved for heads of state.
When they sat, the chef handed Leo a tablet menu glowing softly.
Leo smiled and said, “My friends will choose for themselves. As for me, surprise me—something classic.”
The chef nodded once, taking the tablet from the others after they tapped uncertainly at random luxury items whose names they could barely pronounce.
Within minutes, waiters in white gloves appeared, setting down dishes that looked like art: silver domes lifted to reveal delicate steam and color, fragrances blending like music.
The girls stared in disbelief.
“Eat,” Leo said gently. “She needs her meal delivered warm.”
They obeyed, too stunned to speak. The flavor, the presentation, the perfection—everything tasted like a dream none of them deserved to touch.
Then came the wine: an aged bottle presented with ceremony, its label whispered about in magazines as priceless.
The cork was opened with reverence, poured into crystal glasses that shimmered with crimson light.
The girls exchanged wide-eyed glances.
One whispered, “Is this really happening?”
Leo simply smiled and said, “Drink. You’ll remember this day.”
When they finished, still dazed, the Head Chef returned.
“Was everything to your satisfaction, sir?”
Leo rose and placed a friendly hand on the chef’s shoulder.
“As always.”
The chef’s smile deepened. “Your visit honors us. Please come again soon.”
Without another word, Leo motioned to the girls and started toward the door.
No bill was presented. No credit card required.
The chef himself escorted them out.
Outside, the Uber driver waited by the curb.
The guards opened the doors for them with the same respectful bow.
As the car pulled away, none of the girls spoke.
They stared out the windows, silent, replaying every second—the voice that had greeted him by name, the bowed guards, the world’s most exclusive restaurant treating a man they had mocked like royalty.
When the hospital came back into view, the same sentence ran through all their minds:
Who exactly is Leo Grayson?
- Writer
