The euphoria of victory gradually gave way to a more sobering reality as the magnitude of what had just transpired settled over the group like morning fog. Sarah, Christopher, and the others had sensed the gap between Jason and themselves before tonight—but now that chasm felt as vast and unbridgeable as the space between continents.
For Megan's sake, Jason had casually expendedover ten million dollars. Not as an investment, not as a calculated business move, but essentially as an elaborate gesture to spare her feelings and restore her dignity.
Ten million dollars. To avenge a moment's disrespect.
The implications were staggering enough to induce vertigo in anyone who contemplated them seriously.
cole slumped in his chair, his usual confidence deflated like a punctured balloon. "Dear God," he muttered, his voice barely audible above the restaurant's ambient noise, "how wealthy is his family, really? This goes beyond rich—this is generational wealth territory."
The question hung in the air like a challenge to the fundamental order of the universe they thought they understood.
Miller—no relation to the manager—shook his head with the expression of someone who'd just witnessed divine intervention. "You all saw how Megan was watching him, right? The way her eyes followed his every movement? If some guy dropped eight figures just to defend my honor, I'd probably propose marriage on the spot."
Chris, who had been maintaining stoic silence throughout the evening, finally found his voice. "There's still one possibility," he said, though his tone suggested he was grasping at increasingly thin straws. "Maybe Jason's gotten carried away. Spending that kind of money on a woman? Most guys would expect immediate results after a gesture like that. When people get impatient, they make mistakes—and then they just look desperate, like some lovesick fool throwing money at a problem."
The others turned toward him with expressions ranging from hopeful to skeptical. It wasn't entirely unreasonable logic—they'd all seen wealthy men make fools of themselves when their grand gestures failed to produce instant gratification.
"He's not wrong," Miller added, his analytical mind seizing on the possibility like a life preserver. "If any of us had just spent our entire inheritance, we'd be sweating bullets right now, watching for any sign of return on investment. The psychological pressure alone would be crushing."
But when they actually looked at Jason, their carefully constructed rationalization crumbled like sand castles before an incoming tide.
Jason was engaged in relaxed conversation with Broke and several other students, his posture as casual as someone discussing weekend plans. He wasn't stealing glances at Megan, wasn't hovering anxiously for her attention, wasn't displaying any of the desperate neediness they'd expected. If anything, he seemed to have forgotten entirely about his monumental expenditure, as if he'd done nothing more significant than buying coffee for the table.
At that moment, one of the restaurant's servers approached Jason with the kind of warm smile usually reserved for beloved family members. "Excuse me, sir," she said, her voice carrying newfound respect and barely concealed admiration, "what would you like us to do with the remaining bottles?"
It was the same young woman who had earlier trembled while opening the vintage wines, the one Jason had reassured when she'd nearly panicked about potential spillage. Her gratitude from that moment had been genuine, but now that she understood he was her new employer, her appreciation had evolved into something approaching worship.
She stood at attention, awaiting his instructions with the deference usually reserved for heads of state. After all, each unopened bottle represented more money than she'd see in several years of wages.
Jason glanced around the table with casual interest. "Anyone planning to continue drinking?"
The students collectively shook their heads with the unanimity of a synchronized swimming team. The mere thought of consuming more liquid treasure made them feel faint.
"Then display them in the front entrance," Jason said with the same tone he might use to discuss newspaper placement. "Actually, order another hundred thousand dollars worth of premium wines to complete the collection. These bottles should become a signature feature of our establishment—guests can purchase them if they choose, or I can share them with friends when we visit."
The servers exchanged glances of pure amazement. Had they heard correctly? Jason was casually converting three million dollars worth of wine into decorative elements, while simultaneously ordering additional inventory worth more than their combined annual salaries, all for aesthetic purposes?
They looked at him with the kind of awe typically reserved for miracle workers or lottery winners. Handsome, wealthy, confident, and generous—he seemed like something from a fairy tale made flesh. Compared to the celebrities and socialites they occasionally served, Jason possessed a magnetism that felt almost supernatural.
The other students sat in stunned silence, their worldviews undergoing another fundamental reorganization. Jason had just spent over ten million dollars on property acquisition, and now he was casually dropping additional hundred of thousands on restaurant décor as if money were renewable resource.
Cole, Chris, and Miller felt their earlier confidence evaporate like morning dew. They'd convinced themselves that Jason would eventually reveal desperation, would begin hovering around Megan like a lovesick puppy expecting reward for his investment. Instead, he continued spending with the casual indifference of someone who genuinely didn't need to count the cost.
Their faces burned with the shame that comes from realizing you've fundamentally misunderstood the nature of reality itself.
It was then that Megan quietly approached one of the servers, whispering something that sent the woman scurrying toward the kitchen. Several minutes later, she returned carrying a small plate bearing a pristine slice of birthday cake—clearly set aside with deliberate care while the others had been indulging.
"While you were handling business negotiations," she said, her voice carrying the warmth of honey mixed with silk, "everyone else devoured the cake. But I made sure to save this piece specifically for you."
The male students watched in collective silence, feeling a collective pang of jealousy that threatened to stop their hearts entirely.
"Thank you," Jason replied with characteristic understatement, taking a few appreciative bites before setting the plate aside.
Megan's expression shifted into a playful pout. "I specifically preserved this piece just for you," she said with mock indignation, "and you're finished after two bites?"
Jason's smile carried the easy confidence of someone who'd never doubted his welcome anywhere. "I had a substantial dinner earlier. Too much dessert after that wouldn't be wise."
"It's barely a sliver—how much could it possibly weigh?" she teased, scooping up a spoonful and moving closer with predatory grace. "Come on. Just a few more bites for me?"
Her beauty at close range was the kind that historically started wars and toppled kingdoms. Jason chuckled with genuine amusement and allowed her to guide the spoon to his lips.
The girls around them giggled and offered encouraging comments, treating the scene like performance art. It didn't seem inappropriate—Jason had just spent millions defending Megan's honor, after all. Feeding him cake felt like the absolute minimum gesture of gratitude. If any of them had been in Megan's position, they might have already been planning wedding ceremonies. A man like Jason represented the kind of prize that appeared perhaps once in a lifetime.
Cole, Chris, and Miller felt their souls deflate like punctured tires. Megan had always been carefully neutral in public, never showing obvious preference among her various admirers. But now she was openly choosing Jason, and she clearly didn't care how much it devastated her other suitors. Compared to someone who could casually spend eight figures on her comfort, they had suddenly become as relevant as background noise.
After several spoonfuls, Megan gracefully withdrew, understanding instinctively that continuing would cross the line from charming into excessive. But the image of her personally feeding Jason was already burned into every observer's memory with the permanence of a brand.
Jason observed the expressions around the table with the detached interest. He recognized the looks on their faces—once upon a time, he had worn that exact expression, chasing after Megan with the desperate hunger of someone who'd forgotten his own worth.
But he felt no pity for them. No one had offered him sympathy during his own humiliation.
A man who debases himself for affection isn't worthy of compassion. He's simply learning a lesson that pride and self-respect should have taught him long ago.
And perhaps this moment humiliation was exactly what they needed to finally grow into men worthy of respect—their own, if no one else's.
[System Alert: Megan's Affection +25][Warning: Megan's affection approaching maximum threshold for current relationship level]
Jason's eyes flickered with satisfaction as the notification chimed in his consciousness. The evening's investment was paying dividends beyond his most optimistic projections.
The game, it seemed, was finally entering its most interesting phase.
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