The heavy Los Angeles traffic had finally begun to clear up, the dense sea of red taillights giving way to the breezy, palm-tree-lined coastal roads of Santa Monica.
As we cruised toward the restaurant, my mind couldn't help but wander back to the incredibly tense, bizarre moment that had occurred just ten minutes prior.
When Grandma DeDe had sneakily reached across the center console and pressed two fingers directly against my wrist pulse, my Webnovel-poisoned brain had instantly gone into overdrive.
I was completely prepared for her to look at me with wide, mystical eyes and declare that my soul was a reincarnated ancient scholar, or that my meridians were blocked by a supreme heavenly seal. I had practically held my breath, waiting for an earth-shattering, genre-breaking revelation.
Instead, after about thirty seconds of intense, silent concentration, DeDe had simply patted my hand and smiled warmly.
"Hmm, very strong and steady," she had said casually, keeping her eyes on the road. "You have an excellent heart rate, sweetie. Your iron levels must be fantastic. Whatever Claire is feeding you is working perfectly. Your physical vessel is very hydrated."
That was it. No Daoist diagnoses. No spiritual revelations. Just a grandmother making sure her grandson wasn't anemic.
I had let out a tired, highly amused sigh, scratching the back of my messy, wolf-cut hair. I really need to stop treating my life like a Xianxia cultivation novel, I had joked internally. Sometimes a pulse check is just a pulse check. This woman is a Malibu hippie, not a hidden martial arts grandmaster.
Finally, the glowing, elegant signage of 'The Huntley' came into view.
DeDe skillfully maneuvered her luxury sedan into the VIP valet lane at the front of the towering, glass-fronted hotel. As I stepped out of the passenger seat, handing my door off to a valet attendant in a crisp uniform, I glanced toward the exit of the underground parking garage.
I could clearly see the taillights of Phil's rented black Porsche and Uncle Mitchell's eco-friendly Toyota disappearing into the VIP parking sector. They had already arrived and gone inside.
"Well, Granny, it looks like we're officially the last ones here," I noted casually, adjusting my unbuttoned suit collar. "We are fashionably late."
"Time is a social construct, Luke," DeDe hummed happily, grabbing her purse.
The young valet attendant, holding the ticket for the car, smiled politely at DeDe. "I'll take great care of the vehicle, ma'am."
"Oh, I know you will, young man!" DeDe beamed. She dug into her patterned purse. "Here, let me give you a little something for your wonderful aura. It's a raw, unpolished rose quartz. Keep it in your left pocket to ward off the negative exhaust fumes."
The valet's smile completely froze. He stared at the jagged, pink rock DeDe was trying to press into his palm, looking absolutely bewildered. He clearly relied on actual cash tips to pay his rent, not spiritual rocks.
Time to step in, I thought, suppressing a laugh.
Before the poor guy could awkwardly decline, I smoothly slid my hand into my suit trouser pocket, pulling out a crisp ten-dollar bills that Claire had aggressively shoved into my hand for 'emergencies' earlier.
I gracefully intercepted the exchange. I slipped the ten-dollar bill directly into the valet's breast pocket with a smooth, practiced motion, while simultaneously offering him a charismatic, knowing nod.
"My grandmother will handle your spiritual wellness, man," I told the valet smoothly. "But I'll handle the material realm. Take care of the car."
The valet's eyes widened. He looked from the twenty-dollar bill to my perfectly tailored suit and messy, effortless hair. He instantly stood up straighter, recognizing the classic aura of old money and high-society manners.
"Thank you, sir! Right away, sir!" the valet beamed, practically bowing as he hurried to park the car.
"Oh, Luke, you don't need to bribe people when the earth provides free healing," DeDe clicked her tongue disapprovingly, though she looked highly amused by my intervention.
"Just covering all our bases, Granny," I winked.
We walked up the grand, red-carpeted steps toward the luxury gate of the hotel. The place practically screamed wealth. Every surface was polished marble, gleaming brass, or spotless glass. Highly affluent people in designer gowns and bespoke tuxedos were strolling in and out of the massive revolving doors.
As expected of a true five-star establishment, I thought, letting out a low whistle. Grandpa Jay really threw down the heavy capital for this one.
We approached the front security desk. A pair of large, imposing men in sharp black suits stood by a velvet rope, holding digital tablets.
"Name for the private event?" the guard asked politely.
"Pritchett-Dunphy," DeDe answered.
The guard tapped his screen, nodded respectfully, and unhooked the velvet rope. "Right this way, ma'am. The private rehearsal dinner is on the 18th floor. Take the express elevator on your left."
DeDe and I stepped into the glass-walled express elevator, and the doors slid shut. As the car began its rapid ascent, my stomach did a slight drop.
It wasn't altitude sickness. Unknowingly, a sudden, heavy wave of nervousness started washing over me.
In my previous life, before I woke up in the body of Luke Dunphy, I was slightly broke and struggling student. I lived off instant ramen, worked part-time jobs to afford rented apartment, and counted every single penny. To someone from my original background, a place like The Huntley wasn't just a restaurant; it was an impenetrable fortress of high society. I couldn't even afford to roam the perimeter of a five-star hotel without feeling like security was going to chase me away.
And now, here I was, zooming up to the penthouse suite, wearing a brand-new tailored suit, about to eat filet mignon funded by my millionaire grandfather.
My hands grew slightly clammy. My foot started tapping nervously against the polished elevator floor. Imposter syndrome is a real killer, I joked nervously to myself, my heart rate spiking. What if I pick up the wrong fork? What if I accidentally act like a broke college kid and embarrass the family?
DeDe, who had been staring out the glass window at the shrinking city below, suddenly turned her head.
Despite all her eccentricities, she was incredibly perceptive when it came to human emotion. She immediately noticed my tapping foot, my stiff shoulders, and the slight flicker of anxiety in my eyes.