"Lance, don't you think you're being a bit disrespectful?" "It's been ages since you were supposed to sign that divorce paper, and you still can't bring yourself to sign it. Are you doing this on purpose?" "Is it fun to mess with me?" Lance's hand jerked abruptly at her words, "I ... " "I'm not messing with you." "It's just that this divorce paper isn't right." "Not right? Where isn't it right? I think it's perfectly fine." "It's not in your best interest ... " "I don't care!" Addison was furious—her anger resonating in her loud voice. The two faced each other in a silent standoff. A waiter who had been stationed outside heard the disturbance within and instantly felt a surge of alarm. With the city cracking down hard these days, no brawls or disturbances were tolerated in the restaurant; any hint of a fight had to be nipped in the bud. He walked in with a tray of glasses, a determined look on his face. But before he could fully enter, Lance's gaze swept over him coolly and silently—the chill in his eyes and the inexplicable aura he exuded seemed to still the very air. The waiter's feet froze in place, paralyzed with fear. This guy ... How does he have such a powerful presence? It is downright scary. Pinned to the spot, the waiter couldn't move even a step and began to wonder if his decision to intervene had been too rash. After all, the guest at the table did not look friendly at all. He had worked in the restaurant for so long—so experienced that by his age he'd already become a manager. He'd seen it all, the beautiful, the plain, the gentle, the fierce—what kind of people hadn't he encountered? He prided himself on being able to handle anyone in the restaurant.But today, facing the man in the chair, he was forced to reexamine his own limits. The man before him showed no overt expression or anger—just a sidelong glance that sent shivers down his spine. It was truly terrifying. Still seething, Addison turned and spotted a waiter entering from the door. For a moment, she forced herself to soften her tone, "Is there something you need?" She prided herself on not letting her anger affect others. Hearing her voice, the waiter quickly raised the glass in his hand, a smile spreading across his face, "Miss, it looks like your cup is empty ... " "I've come to fill it for you." With that, he hurried over to Addison, bent down, and poured a cup of tea. He quickly filled the cup, and Addison offered a small nod of thanks. The waiter intended to make a hasty exit after this—after all, the sharply dressed man across from the lady was not someone he dared to provoke. But as he stood up, he inadvertently noticed that the man's cup was already empty. He had said he was coming in to pour water ... yet he only filled the lady's cup, leaving the man's untouched. Didn't that seem a bit off? It didn't comply with the restaurant's rules either... "Um ... Sir, it looks like your cup is empty as well. May I pour you a drink?" Under immense pressure, the waiter nervously looked up at Lance. Lance said nothing. Instead, he placed his hand on the table, his long fingers tapping lightly against the surface—one tap, then another.