Service Was Mediocre: Reviewing My Billionaire Lover

Chapter 8 No.8

Word Count: 665 | Released on: 22/01/2026

't a request. "I'm casting for Midnight Rain. You ha

om a waiter. Her hands were steady now. "I'

"Talk to me about noir. W

m are afraid of women who su

t was a wolfish g

ing until his knuckles turned white. He watched Avery smile at Arnoldo-

touched. He felt a burning irritation in his chest. He wanted to go down

irs slammed open with a fo

mmot

ind him trailed Hamlin Ward, his wrist wrapped in an overly dramatic bandage

. A blurry shot of 'the Hall disgrace' playing pi

n the booth with Arnoldo. He marched over,

ted. His voice cracked. The

her water glass. She didn't

out of the booth. "You're playing piano in a dive bar? Have

ctable one," Avery said, her voice

't a big man, but he had

"Stay out of this. Th

she is my guest," Arnol

. He pointed his good hand at Avery. "She assaulted

r. Assault? Her? The skin

, mocking sound. "You're stil

ed. "Assault? What i

e's on drugs again!" Hamlin whined. He moved clos

ep into Avery's space. He saw Hamlin r

ed. The glass in his ha

toward the stairs. He didn't hurry. He moved wi

d up. She shifted her

le. A scent of sandalwood and cold

ullen Hunter descended the final

e a prob

ce was low.

s arm loosened instantly. Even E

mered. "This... this is

ok at Ernest. He looked at Avery. He checked h

aid, turning his cold eyes to Erne

Chapter End

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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.”