Chapter 33: Roasted
The atmosphere in the dining hall was thick—not with smoke, nor tension, but something worse.
Expectation.
At the far end of the table, Estello sat, his usual calm and composed demeanor in place, but Richard could feel the weight of his gaze.
To Estello's left, Jack sat—grinning like a bastard.
He casually lifted his hand and made a mock throat-slicing gesture, his smirk practically screaming:
"You're gonna die, boy."
On the right, Anita sat with her arms crossed, her gaze piercing through Richard like he had just crashed a Lamborghini into the mansion.
She wasn't just angry—she looked like she was ready to strangle him.
"Shit."
Richard shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sweat already forming on his back.
This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid.