Oliver walked toward Rebecca after spotting her—and she had waved him over.
For a man in sweatpants to enter a restaurant like this was already conspicuous enough, but what made it even more striking was the fact that he was heading straight to the most eye-catching woman.
However, when he reached her table, the woman graciously invited him to sit down, leaving the other onlookers with nothing to say—just envious stares directed at Oliver.
"You probably haven't had dinner yet. I already ordered something for you, so go ahead and eat," she said softly.
In front of the seat he had taken was a cut of roasted meat, glistening so perfectly it almost looked like a decorative candle made to resemble meat.
"Mrs. Rothschild…" Oliver began, but the woman cut him off.
"Are you still mad at me? Is that why you won't call me by my name?" she asked, her tone tinged with sadness.
