“Is everything to your liking?” she asks, a cheery smile on her face.
“Where did you say this bottle came from?”
“It came from the Champagne region in France. We work with a local—”
“I know where f*****g champagne comes from. I mean this specific bottle,” I growl. “Tonight. You said you don’t usually serve it, so who brought it in?”
She swallows nervously. “I’m afraid I don’t know. It was in the kitchen. They told me to bring it to you.”
“The kitchen staff. No one told me who delivered it. I might be able to ask the chef, but these kinds of things aren’t usually written down anywhere. We only know what is written on the cards, and this bottle didn’t come with a card.”
Because it didn’t need to. The sender made their message crystal clear with one stroke of their red pen.
“I’m sorry,
