Service Was Mediocre: Reviewing My Billionaire Lover

Chapter 7 No.7

Word Count: 655 | Released on: 22/01/2026

The lighting was low, amber-hued, designed t

orner booth, wearing a fedora that would have looked ridiculous on

ng a rendition of "Misty." It was technically profi

pered to Zoe. "Order a

crisp new bills from the emergency stash in her safe, a world away from the crump

the owner," she lied, her voice conf

dress. He shrugged. "It's open mic night anyw

there like a beast waiting to be tamed. She sat down o

her face, blinding her to the audience. T

inal Avery's pain, the rejection, the fear of the last twenty-four hours

her hands o

dard. She played an im

rain against a windowpane. Then, her left hand joined in, a

a storm. It was angry. It was desperate. It was

oom died. The clinki

roze halfway to his mouth. He squinted at the

er mouth. Tears pricked her eyes. She had kno

keys. The betrayal. The cold apar

fter, resolving melody. A

the pedal hold the note until

body moved. The silen

of hands started cla

ldo

pplause swelled, genuine and thundero

ht, professional bow. Her legs fel

stage, intending t

ath. He moved fast for a

ded. His eyes were inte

She didn't look down.

? The one who throws drinks?" He shook his head. "No. You

ng you read, Mr. Young,

heavy metal doors

e saw Avery. He saw Arnoldo standing inches

is side. The jealousy hit h

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Service Was Mediocre: Reviewing My Billionaire Lover

Min Xiaoxi Billionaires

“I woke up in a luxury penthouse with a blinding headache and bruises on my thighs, staring at the man who was about to ruin my life. Cullen Hunter, the most dangerous billionaire in Los Angeles, was stepping out of the shower, ready to discard me with a signed check and a cold look of disdain. Then the memories hit me like a physical blow. I realized I had woken up in the "Death Flag" scene of a script-this was the exact morning Avery Hall was supposed to be kicked out, humiliated, and started her downward spiral into a tragic death. The nightmare escalated within minutes. My own brother, Ernest, called to tell me I was no longer a member of the family, freezing my trust fund and evicting me from my apartment. He believed the lies of our "perfect" adopted sister, Cheslie, who had leaked her own private photos and framed me for it just to gain sympathy. Even my fiancé, Preston, couldn't wait to dump me in public, calling me a "crazy bitch" before running straight into Cheslie's waiting arms. I was suddenly homeless, bankrupt, and the most hated woman in the city. My family wanted me to crawl back and apologize on my knees for a crime I didn't commit, while the man I had just spent the night with watched my destruction with boredom. I didn't understand how they could all turn on me so fast, or how I was expected to survive in a world where the script was literally written for my failure. "Avery, don't make this difficult," Cullen warned, waiting for the tears he thought were coming. But I refused to play the victim. I pulled three hundred dollars of my last bits of cash, slapped them onto Cullen's nightstand, and told him the service was mediocre. I wasn't going to beg for love or mercy anymore; I was going to rewrite the ending of this story and become the most dangerous femme fatale Hollywood had ever seen.”