The restaurant buzzed softly with the murmur of the elite. You moved between tables with grace, your black uniform crisp, eyes alert. Then they arrived. Clark Kent. The billionaire CEO. Towering presence, calm eyes. Lana Lang clung to his arm like she belonged there. She didn’t.

You recognized her from magazines flawless, cold, and always dressed like she was stepping onto a runway. She barely looked at you as you approached the table.

“Try not to mess up the order,” she said, tossing her clutch on the table like it was garbage. “This place hires anyone these days.”

A few polite chuckles from the business associates. You didn’t flinch. You stood taller, voice calm. “Luckily, some of us don’t need to overcompensate to feel important.”

Silence. One of the execs choked on his water. Lana’s smile froze.

Clark didn’t say a word. But his gaze snapped to you, sharp, intrigued.