Get Ready For Allvar Falck's Ruthless Return

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Seraphina placed a calming hand on his arm, though her eyes remained locked on the waiter. “Ignore them,” she whispered. “They’re beneath us.”

The waiter, however, wasn’t finished. “See? Even the lady’s trying to calm you down,” he said with a chuckle. “Maybe she knows something you don’t—like how this place runs on appearances.”

Allvar stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. He glared at the waiter, his patience threadbare. “You want proof I can pay?” His voice was low, dangerous, each word more venomous than the last.

The waiter took a step back, momentarily surprised, but recovered quickly. “Oh, I’m not asking for proof, sir. Just pointing out that some places have certain... standards.”

“That’s enough,” Seraphina interrupted, her voice as sharp as ice. “Your insinuations are unfounded, and frankly, unprofessional.”

Allvar leaned in closer to the waiter, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Do you think insulting me will get you a bigger tip?”

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