Chapter 128

"Freelance." Jack's tone was casual as he picked up the menu from the table and flipped through it.

"Oh? Freelance..." Tyler drew out the word, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "No wonder Sherry's into you—no strings attached, living life on your own terms. Not like me, stuck dealing with family business 24/7. I'm swamped every single day."

On the surface, it sounded like a compliment. In reality, he was insinuating that Jack had no real career—that he wasn't good enough for Sherry.

As he spoke, Tyler made a show of raising his right hand, revealing an exquisite watch on his wrist.

It looked expensive.

Sherry caught the subtext immediately. She was about to snap back when Jack gently pressed his hand over hers.

She froze for a moment, turning to look at him.

Jack's expression remained unfazed. He even gave her a small wink.

"Mr. Thornton, sounds like you've got your hands full," Jack said, lifting his gaze to Tyler with calm, steady eyes. "Me? I keep things pretty simple."

Tyler's smile stiffened again.

Was this guy seriously not picking up on the mockery?

Just then, the server arrived with their Beef Wellington.

Once the plates were set down, Sherry naturally reached for Jack's portion and pulled it in front of herself. She picked up her knife and fork and carefully began cutting the beef into bite-sized pieces.

Only after she'd finished did she slide the plate back in front of him.

Jack stared at the scene, his expression frozen.

This was something Sherry used to do for him all the time back when they were together at the military academy.

The motion was so automatic, so practiced—like they'd done this a thousand times before.

Jack gazed down at the neatly cut pieces of beef on his plate, his throat tightening.

Memories he'd deliberately buried came flooding back—the academy cafeteria, Sherry grumbling about how he pushed himself too hard during training and never ate properly, all while carefully cutting his meat into pieces just the right size for him to swallow in one bite.

Sherry turned her head and found Jack staring at her, a flicker of unmistakable sweetness in his eyes.

But she quickly masked it, picking up her own knife and fork and beginning to cut her own steak with elegant, unhurried movements—as if nothing had happened.

Across the table, Tyler saw everything.

His expression darkened, bit by bit, a fire burning in his chest.

This wasn't an act.

At first, Tyler had convinced himself that Jack was just some guy Sherry hired to play boyfriend—a way to brush him off.

He'd seen plenty of fake relationships before. He knew what they looked like.

But that gesture just now—that bone-deep naturalness, that intimacy—wasn't something you could fake on the spot.

She'd really been with this Jack guy before.

And their relationship… had been serious.

A wave of indescribable jealousy surged through him, burning in his chest.

He took a deep breath, forcing the emotion down, and plastered that fake smile back on his face.

"Mr. Carter." Tyler's voice dripped with mockery now. "You've had steak before, haven't you? Why does Sherry need to cut it for you?"

As he spoke, his gaze darted between the two of them, searching Jack's face for any sign of embarrassment or discomfort.

But Jack only glanced at him briefly.

Then he picked up his fork, speared a piece of beef, and brought it to his mouth, chewing slowly.

"Yeah."

"Don't eat it much."

Jack said it calmly, as if he hadn't even registered Tyler's jab.

Over the years, he'd been deployed all over the world with the military. Missions kept him busy. He really didn't eat this kind of thing often.

"Broke loser."

Tyler sneered inwardly, already categorizing Jack as some washed-up nobody.

Tyler felt a smug satisfaction rising in him. He'd figured out exactly how to handle Jack—he'd humiliate him in front of Sherry, make him crawl with shame.

A guy like this? What right did he have to be with Sherry?

Only someone like him—someone with money—could be worthy of someone as beautiful as Sherry.

"No worries if you don't eat it much," Tyler said with exaggerated generosity, picking up the wine bottle and personally pouring Jack a glass. "This place is famous for their Beef Wellington. The timing, the sauce—it's all top-tier. Mr. Carter, since you're here, dig in. Don't hold back."

He paused, then added in a condescending tone, "Dinner's on me tonight."

He cut himself a small piece of beef and brought it to his mouth with exaggerated elegance, closing his eyes as if savoring a masterpiece. Then he opened them again, adopting the air of a food critic. "The puff pastry is baked to perfection—crisp without being burnt. The beef inside is tender and juicy, and the black truffle mushroom sauce is infused beautifully into the meat. This is the kind of texture you only get from premium tenderloin. Most people don't get the chance to taste something like this."

He opened his eyes, fixing Jack with a smug, teasing look. "Mr. Carter, what do you think?"

In his mind, a guy who couldn't even cut his own steak was obviously clueless about fine dining. This whole speech was just charity.

But Jack simply swallowed his bite, then lifted his wine glass and took a small sip.

"It's fine," he said flatly, his tone as casual as if he were talking about a burger from a fast-food joint.

Tyler's smile faltered slightly.

"Though..." Jack set down his glass and looked up at Tyler, his gaze calm and unreadable. "The pastry's good, but the beef's overcooked by about half a degree—probably thirty seconds too long. And the sauce? The black truffle ratio's a little high. It's overpowering the natural flavor of the beef."

He glanced back down at the meat on his plate and added, "As for your 'premium tenderloin'... yeah, it's decent. But it's M5 grade Wagyu, not the top-tier M9. Still, I guess it's passable. Barely."

Tyler froze.

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Across from him, Sherry blinked in surprise, then lowered her head, the corners of her mouth curving upward.

This man... just a moment ago he was acting like he 'didn't eat this stuff much,' and now he was breaking down the beef's texture, doneness, and even the grade of the meat like a seasoned expert.

Tyler's face flushed with embarrassment. He'd tried to humiliate Jack with this steak, and instead, he'd just been schooled.

Wasn't this guy supposed to be broke?

How the hell did he know so much about steak?

What Tyler didn't know was... Jack really didn't eat steak often.

But during downtime between missions, he did get the chance.

And given his position, the steaks he ate were 'specially sourced.'

The best in the world.