Chapter 3

I ruthlessly cut off Jennifer's furious screams.

As soon as the screen went dark, her number popped up again like a mad dog.

I sneered, and with a slight flick of my finger, I added her to my blacklist.

The world is finally quiet.

Just then, a voice prompt indicating special concern flashed above the screen.

It is Charlie, my real son.

"Dad, I'm at the 'Peak Club'! Hurry up, tonight's your show!" The boy's clear voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement and pride.

Upon hearing that voice, a trace of warmth finally melted away the millennia-old ice in my eyes.

"Coming right away." I replied via voice message, and casually buttoned up the top button of my shirt.

After finishing, I stepped on the gas again. The black Maybach, like a lurking leopard in the night, silently blended into the dazzling sea of neon lights in Manhattan.

Half an hour later, the car came to a steady stop in front of that majestic classical building in the heart of Manhattan.

I opened the car door, and the valet immediately came forward respectfully to take the keys.

However, the moment I turned around, my good mood vanished.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

Ethan's nauseating voice rang out in the night wind like fingernails scraping a blackboard.

I lifted my eyelids. On the steps not far away, Jennifer and Ethan were dressed up in their finest attire, like two peacocks desperately displaying their feathers.

Clearly, Andrew, as an invited guest at tonight's summit, brought this mother and son along as a mere accessory to "broaden their horizons."

"Could it be that my mom just took pity on you and you actually came to serve dishes?" Ethan, hands in his pockets, swaggered up to me, looking me up and down. "Uncle Andrew just said that the club is short a few waiters to pour drinks tonight. What, you haven't even received your uniforms yet?"

I stared at him blankly, as if he were invisible.

Jennifer walked gracefully in, her brows furrowed, as she lifted her skirt and wore those high heels.

"Liam, didn't I tell you to make an appointment and contact me first after you've thought it through? Why did you shamelessly come here on your own?"

She glanced at the heavy, closed oak door behind me, then at the armed security personnel standing in front of it, and immediately revealed a knowing, condescending expression.

"The security here is the strictest in all of New York. Without a member's personal invitation, not even a fly can get in." She sighed dramatically. "Were you lingering at the entrance and stopped by the security guards who mistook you for a beggar?"

I watched her perform her own drama with cold indifference, without even the desire to refute it.

Seeing that I didn't speak, Jennifer thought she had touched a sore spot and raised her chin even higher.

"Fine, since you're already here, I can't just stand by and watch you make a fool of yourself."

She adjusted the diamond necklace around her neck, her tone full of favor: "I'll have Andrew reluctantly take you inside in a bit. Once inside, you'll stay obediently behind him, don't run around, don't touch anything, and most importantly, don't say anything that would embarrass me, understand?"

"Mom, why are you bothering with him!" Ethan shouted in dissatisfaction.

He suddenly leaned forward and pointed to the bronze plaque next to the club's entrance, gleaming under the spotlights—"The Pinnacle Club".

"Open your dog eyes and look carefully! Do you know how difficult it is to get into this place?" Ethan said proudly, as if he had personally hung up the bronze plaque.

"Uncle Andrew spent three whole years and countless resources to get a regular membership here! Everyone standing here today is a true big shot from Wall Street and Silicon Valley!"

Ethan glared at me maliciously, a mocking smile spreading across his face: "A piece of trash like you who's been to jail isn't even qualified to kneel down and polish the shoes of the big shots here!"

Faced with the mother and child's repeated barking, I felt no anger, only immense sorrow.

Seven years have passed, and instead of making any progress, they have taken their stupidity to the extreme.

I curled my lips into an extremely cold smile.

Without any further ado, I walked straight past them and headed directly for the oak gate that symbolized the highest authority in New York.

"Hey! Are you crazy? Without Uncle Andrew to lead the way, security will kick you out on the spot!" Ethan shouted gloatingly from behind.

Jennifer snapped, "Liam! Are you trying to do something stupid right now? Come back here and don't drag us down with you!"

I ignored him and didn't stop walking.

Just as I was three steps away from the gate, the burly, sharp-eyed security captain at the entrance suddenly turned around.

His gaze fell on my face, then quickly swept over the inconspicuous, matte black and gold badge on my chest.

The next second, a shocking scene unfolded.

The security captain, who even Wall Street's top billionaires had to defer to, straightened his back abruptly as if he had been electrocuted.

He quickly removed the tactical glove from his right hand and, with the utmost precision and the highest level of special operations etiquette, bowed deeply—a head he had never bowed to before.

"Good evening, Mr. Hayes!"

His deep voice boomed through the night sky, filled with awe and fervor.

"Your private room is fully prepared! The club's founder is waiting for you in the top-floor VIP lounge; he insists on personally welcoming you!"

Before he finished speaking, the security captain turned around and pushed open the heavy oak door with both hands.

Then, he bowed very respectfully and made an extremely humble "please" gesture to me.

"Mr. Hayes, please come in."

I stepped confidently through the door with steady steps.

Behind me, a deathly silence spread.

Jennifer's haughty expression froze instantly, and Ethan's gloating smile completely died on his lips.

They stood like two statues struck by lightning, staring wide-eyed in horror at my retreating figure as the security captain greeted me, their minds completely blank.