CHAPTER 290: CHAPTER 290

At that moment, hearing what the lady just said, Cora’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Wait—what did she just say?" she whispered under her breath.

She turned to Oliver and leaned in slightly, her voice sharp but low. "Did she just say they should lock the door and bring down the blinds? What is going on?"

But Oliver didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were already scanning the room, alert.

Cora looked back at the woman who had spoken. "Excuse me," she said louder this time. "What is happening here? Are they closing the restaurant or something? Why are the doors being locked?"

But no one answered her Instead, two of the men from the group silently moved toward the entrance. One of them flipped the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED", while the other pulled down the heavy blinds on every window, one by one, sealing off the view from outside.

The sound of the blinds clacking down sent a strange chill through Cora’s body. Her back stiffened as her fingers curled slightly on the edge of the table.

The once-bright and cozy restaurant suddenly felt different darker, heavier. Almost like a trap.

The woman who had given the order didn’t even turn around. She clapped her hands twice, loud and sharp, like a signal.

"Camera, get ready," she said, as if she was directing a stage play. "I want every angle covered. Every picture and videos must be clear. I don’t want any excuses this time. If you want this to go smoothly, then make it perfect."

Cora’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief.

Camera? Pictures? What the hell was she talking about?

Oliver shifted in his seat, clearly getting uncomfortable too, his brow lowering. But neither of them had time to speak.

The woman raised her hand again and pointed toward the five men she came in with.

"Strip now," she ordered, her voice calm but cold. "And get to work."

At that moment, the woman’s eyes sharply zeroed in on Oliver like a hawk spotting an intruder in its nest. Her voice rang out with unfiltered irritation. "Damn it," she muttered through gritted teeth, flipping her hair to one side as she scoffed. "I thought she had already learned her lesson. I thought this time she would come alone, but no, she actually brought someone. What is he supposed to be—her bodyguard? Her little knight in shining armor?"

Oliver didn’t say a word, but his gaze locked onto hers, his shoulders straightening slightly, muscles tensing like a spring. He didn’t need to ask questions. He already understood this wasn’t going to be a peaceful meeting.

The woman didn’t even bother addressing Cora anymore. She turned toward the five men who were already starting to spread out, clearly anticipating a signal.

"Take care of that good-for-nothing lowlife first," she ordered coldly, her voice sharp as a knife. "Tie him up, gag him, and knock him out. We’ll deal with her later."

Oliver instinctively stepped forward, placing one hand subtly in front of Cora, shielding her. His face remained composed, but his eyes scanned the restaurant counting exits, judging distances.

Before he could move, the so-called "customers"—the ones Cora had felt relieved by earlier rose one after the other. Men and women alike, dressed casually like ordinary diners, suddenly revealed their true colors. There weren’t five... there were closer to twenty of them. It was a trap.

Every single one of them started closing in.

One of the burly men cracked his knuckles and smirked. "Look, young man, we don’t want to break every bone in your body. So why don’t you just make it easy for yourself? Go down on your knees. Let us tie you up. We’ll take it easy if you don’t resist."

Another man chuckled, grabbing a rope from his jacket as if he’d been planning this all day. "You came to the wrong dinner, brother."

Again Cora’s heart began racing. Her palms were sweating. The room suddenly felt like it was closing in on her, walls shrinking by the second. She looked at Oliver, her eyes wide in disbelief.

At that moment, Cora’s voice echoed across the quiet restaurant.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" she snapped, standing up slightly as her chair scraped back. Her eyes were sharp, voice filled with tension. "I set up this meeting for your own good. You think this was all for show? You think I came here to play games with you? What’s happening here wasn’t part of the plan!"

She looked around, trying to understand. The people who had once walked in looking like regular customers had now turned into silent guards, forming a loose circle around her and Oliver. Their expressions were blank, eyes unreadable. It was clear now this wasn’t a meeting. It was a trap.

Her breath quickened. She pointed a trembling but furious finger at the woman who had given the strange orders earlier. "You better not try this nonsense you’re planning. I swear to you, if you take one more step in this madness, I will crush all of you. I’m not someone you want to play with!"

But instead of flinching, the woman burst into laughter. A slow, mocking laugh that made Cora’s skin crawl.

"You really think you have a choice here?" she said, her tone dripping with arrogance. "Look around you. Do you really think anyone here is afraid of you? These men these women they’re not amateurs. They don’t flinch. They don’t beg. And they sure as hell don’t fear a pampered woman sitting pretty in a restaurant."

She stepped closer, her high heels clacking on the tile floor. "You better watch your mouth, princess," she whispered with a smirk. "Or we’ll go rough on you. And when that happens, you’ll wish you never opened your mouth."

Cora’s heartbeat was racing now. Her instincts were screaming that she and Oliver were in real danger. She could feel her hands getting cold, her breath shallower. This wasn’t just about intimidation anymore these people were ready to act.

And the worst part? She was outnumbered. Even though she knew Oliver could hold his own in a fight, the numbers here weren’t in their favor. Five men. Two women. And those supposed customers, scattered around the room. There were nearly twenty of them, maybe more.

If Oliver tried to fight them off, she feared he’d be overwhelmed before help could ever arrive. And calling Brown or Giovanni was useless now. By the time they get here, if they even figured out something was wrong, everything would already be over.

The thought alone made her stomach twist in dread, her mouth opened to speak again, but the words caught in her throat.

And then...Oliver stood up.

His chair slid back slowly, not rushed, not panicked. His movements were calm, steady. He reached out and gently placed a hand on Cora’s arm.

"Cora," he said quietly, his eyes focused and voice calm, "you need to calm down."