“It’s just a black card,” someone muttered. “How can it carry that much weight?”
“I wonder what kind of card that guy handed over,” another whispered. “The restaurant manager dropped to his knees the moment he saw it.”
“Maybe it’s this restaurant’s VIP card?”
“Yeah, right. I have one too, and I don’t see the manager kneeling for me.”
“I think I know,” someone said, lowering their voice. “This place belongs to the Skyrise Corporation. Maybe that guy’s one of their top executives?”
“Even so, no man kneels to his own boss that easily.”
While the crowd speculated, Ryan Zane returned the card to Ethan Blake—then suddenly started slapping himself across the face.
Each slap landed hard, echoing through the restaurant. “Mr. Blake, I was wrong! Please, forgive me! The turtle is yours, free o
