"Tiffany? What are you doing here?"
The supervisor frowned slightly, lowering his voice.
"Weren't you told to come this afternoon?"
Tiffany gave her usual professional smile.
"Sorry to drop in unannounced. I need to speak with the manager."
"He's busy right now… maybe—"
Before he could finish, a soft chuckle drifted down from the stairs.
"I'm here~ Come up, Fanny."
The manager appeared at the turn of the staircase, leaning casually against the railing. His tone was gentle—almost deliberately so. He had always favored Tiffany. Noticing the anxiety on her face, he even reached out and lightly took her wrist.
"Careful on the stairs. No need to rush."
Tiffany smiled politely, steadying herself before following him upstairs.
But the moment the private room door shut, her smile vanished.
She went straight to the point.
"Let's skip the small talk. Can the tip from that anonymous client be returned to me?"
The manager paused… then smiled.
"No."
He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, the reflection hiding the depth in his eyes.
"However… he'd like to book you again. This time, at a much higher price."
Leaning back into the sofa, a faint, knowing smile curled at his lips.
"You don't have to satisfy him. You can make him wait."
"Men like him… the less they get, the more they're willing to pay."
"As for a refund—"
His voice turned cold.
"There's no legal basis for one."
He paused, looking at her meaningfully.
"Of course… if you hadn't accepted that tip privately—off the books—perhaps…"
Tiffany's gaze sharpened instantly, turning icy.
"So what you're saying is—because I accepted the tip privately and bypassed the official process… I've given him an excuse to accuse me of stealing clients?"
The manager raised a finger to his lips.
"Shh."
He pulled out a black card and slid it toward her.
"This is his 30% deposit."
"The deposit alone exceeds your last tip."
He smiled faintly.
"And you're still complaining?"
Tiffany fell silent, her eyes dimming.
Anyone listening nearby would have understood—
this situation was far more complicated than she had imagined.
An anonymous client… yet someone knew, and even demanded a refund?
Clearly, someone was pulling strings behind the scenes.
She lifted her head, her voice steady and restrained.
"What does he want? Did he make any specific requests? Is he difficult?"
She paused, her gaze turning cold.
"He doesn't expect me to… entertain him personally, does he?"
The manager chuckled softly.
"Isn't it just dinner?"
"Maybe he's rich. Maybe he's bored. Maybe he just wants a beautiful companion to pass the time."
He looked at her, his gaze deep and unreadable.
"As for whether he'll be rude… or force anything—"
"That depends on you."
His tone sharpened.
"As for the rest of the money… if you can't secure it, be prepared to be replaced. Remember, there's no shortage of beautiful women here."
"You cost me three deals last time."
"No matter how much I favor you, my job isn't a game."
The atmosphere turned icy.
Tiffany let out a soft, mocking laugh.
"Favor me?"
She stepped forward slightly, every word laced with sarcasm.
"You've been using me to climb the ladder—"
"'Cold beauty. Conquer her, and she's yours.'"
"How many deals have you closed with that line?"
Her eyes locked onto his.
"If something really happened to me out there… would your so-called legal protection mean anything?"
"And you call that 'taking care' of me?"
The manager's expression flickered—then returned to a cold smirk.
"If I hadn't introduced you to those high-end clients, where do you think your prices came from?"
"You really think you can rely on 'Brother Hao' forever?"
"Investors… have bad days too."
His voice grew colder.
"If you don't want to take this seriously—then don't do it at all."
"Good luck."
"With your little boyfriend."
Silence filled the room.
Tiffany straightened, a cold smile tugging at her lips.
Her voice was soft—but razor-sharp.
"Don't forget—"
"You're just a manager."
"You've got some nerve saying all that… bold, reckless even."
She paused, then added lightly,
"Assistant manager~"
Without sparing him another glance, she picked up the black card and rose gracefully.
Her heels struck the floor with crisp, confident steps—laced with quiet mockery.
The door closed behind her.
The manager exhaled a long stream of smoke.
Through the haze, his eyes slowly darkened—
as if calculating his next move