Jefferson's POV
Excellence had never been negotiable for me.
Some called it arrogance, but I knew better. When you commanded empires and held lives in your hands, mediocrity wasn't an option. Still, there existed a chasm between true quality and the hollow imitation most people peddled as perfection.
This restaurant embodied everything I despised about fake sophistication.
Every surface gleamed with an almost manic shine, crystal fixtures threw light in calculated patterns, and staff glided between tables with rehearsed elegance. The entire establishment screamed of manufactured grandeur - much like the Kendrick family itself.
A dynasty built on smoke and mirrors, hiding behind their polished reputation.
Today brought me face to face with their matriarch alone.
The hostess held the door with trembling fingers, her eyes darting away from mine the moment our gazes met. Smart woman. My reputation traveled faster than I did, and for good reason.
