Chapter 737
Chapter 737:
Stephen’s hawk-like gaze quickly zeroed in on Ashton and Morris. A malicious glint sparked in his eyes, sharp and unhidden.
“So, you’ve finally decided to show your face! I thought you’d scurried away like a rat too scared to come out!” Stephen sneered, his words dripping with mockery.
Unruffled, Ashton replied calmly, “Mr. Crawford, what brings you to our humble establishment amidst your busy schedule? Care to offer some pearls of wisdom?”
Stephen’s face darkened, anger flickering like a storm about to break. “Don’t play dumb! You know exactly why I’m here! Three days ago, during the competition, even if that traitor Morris hadn’t won, the championship should have gone to the Figueroa brothers. They lost because you pulled some underhanded trick, throwing them off their game!”
Feigning a sudden epiphany, Ashton raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I see. You’re bitter about losing and want a rematch. Is that it?”
Stephen’s anger boiled beneath the surface, though he forced out a cold laugh. “That’s exactly it! I can’t stomach that loss because it wasn’t fair! If you’ve got any courage left in you, let’s settle this right here, right now. If you lose, the ownership of Skyline Restaurant is mine. If I lose, I’ll forget about whatever tricks you played last time.”
At Stephen’s audacity, Ashton couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Me? Using tricks? That’s rich, coming from someone who was caught red-handed cheating! And now you accuse me? Are shamelessness and hypocrisy a family tradition in the Crawford lineage?”
Though the diners dared not voice their opinions openly, they began whispering among themselves, their skepticism about Stephen’s integrity spreading like ripples in a pond.
Stephen, impervious to the judgment of others, let out a derisive snort. “Shameless? Reputation is just an illusion, a bauble for the gullible. It’s meaningless to me! Do you know how I, Stephen Crawford, carved my empire out of thin air? By discarding such trivialities! So don’t blame me for burning bridges—I’m done playing nice. You have no choice but to compete with me today.”
With a cruel smile, Stephen continued, “Of course, you could refuse, but I’ll remind you: at least half of your restaurant’s ingredients come from our Pavilion Foods Group. Without those supplies, your business might just wither on the vine. Don’t you think?”
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Ashton’s smile began to fade, his mind racing. He had foreseen Stephen resorting to such tactics, but his next move wasn’t ready, leaving him momentarily cornered.
That was when Ashton’s gaze landed on the Figueroa brothers standing silently behind Stephen.
A flicker of realization crossed Ashton’s face, and his expression shifted into a calculated smile. “Mr. Crawford, since you’re so determined to right this supposed injustice, who am I to deny you? Let’s compete again!”
Although the diners understood that Ashton had been forced into agreeing to Stephen’s demands, none dared to voice their objections. Their silent anger simmered, but fear kept them from speaking out.
Ashton, observing their reactions, felt a glimmer of satisfaction. If his instincts were correct, the losses Stephen would suffer today might surpass those of the culinary competition.
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