Chapter 2

Two hundred and eighty thousand dollars was nothing to me. A casual day of shopping cost me more than that.

What made my blood boil wasn't the money—it was Kevin's complete and utter ingratitude.

"I can pay the bill," I said flatly.

The second the words left my mouth, a victorious smirk broke out across Chloe's face.

Kevin let out an obvious sigh of relief, clearly thinking the whole ordeal was finally behind him.

"However," I continued, raising my voice as the temperature in the room plummeted, "you need to explain every single cent of this two hundred and eighty grand. Every service, every charge—break it down for me right now."

Chloe immediately snatched up the pre-printed invoice, reciting it in a boastful, condescending tone.

"First of all, the Supreme Micro-Diagnostic Fee. Our club uses analyzers imported directly from Germany, operated by master technicians with international artisan certifications for three full hours. Naturally, a diagnostic like that matches international elite standards."

"Next, the minor vibration in your exhaust pipe ruined the beauty of its sound profile. We performed an 'Italian Operatic Resonance Chamber' acoustic upgrade on it. Now your exhaust roars with the rich, booming power of Pavarotti himself. That alone doubled your car's aesthetic value."

I almost thought my ears were playing tricks on me. The three corporate partners standing beside me twitched their lips in sheer disbelief. Even Kevin hung his head in sheer embarrassment.

Yet Chloe wasn't done. Her claims grew more absurd by the second.

"Finally, our technicians discovered that your turbocharger's power output lacked energetic harmony. That's no small issue! It required a precision calibrator operated under a Swiss vacuum environment, guided remotely by headquarters specialists to align the spiritual and dynamic balance, ensuring your turbo and engine achieved a soulful synergy."

"Do you know what that is? That is one-of-a-kind, world-class luxury care! Get it?"

"In short, our Oceanic Auto Club has clear, honest pricing. It's not our fault that you lack the class and exposure to appreciate top-tier service. Don't make a scene just because you're uncultured!"

Her parting words were dripping with unvarnished contempt.

One of my business partners, Mr. Davis, couldn't listen to it any longer. He stood up to smooth things over.

"Marcus, it's getting late. Why don't we head out? I can handle this bill for you."

I held up a hand, firmly stopping him. By this point, it had long ceased to be about the money.

I had brought my partners here today to introduce high-profile connections to Kevin while getting a routine maintenance check on my car. Who could have guessed his little girlfriend would humiliate me right to my face?

Forcing down my rage, I turned to my three guests and gave them a sincere apology.

"I am truly sorry you had to witness such a ridiculous circus. It ruined our afternoon. To make it up to you all, I've booked the entire private penthouse at The Summit this Saturday to properly host you."

Almost the moment I finished speaking, their phones chimed in succession with VIP reservation confirmations and private invitation codes from The Summit.

Mr. Davis, who had just offered to pay my bill, stared at his screen in stunned awe.

They were all wealthy business owners, but in truly elite circles, they barely scratched the surface.

The Summit was an ultra-exclusive, invitation-only private sanctuary where true power players gathered; it was completely closed to the general public. Money alone couldn't buy you a seat at the table.

Yet I had secured a private takeover of the entire venue with a single text message.

In that instant, any lingering doubt about my status vanished completely from their minds.

When they looked at me again, their eyes were filled with profound respect.

I walked my partners out to the main entrance of the club, watching their cars pull away into the distance.

As soon as their taillights vanished, the polite smile faded from my face, replaced by a wall of ice.

I spun around, ready to walk back in and clean house.

Instead, I found Chloe blocking the lobby doors, flanked by two towering security guards.

"Hold it right there!"

Chloe screeched, pointing an acrylic nail directly at my nose.

"Thinking of sneaking away? Not a chance! You're not stepping one foot off this property until you pay every single dime you owe!"

The two guards stepped forward on cue, closing in on me aggressively.

I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at the sheer absurdity before me.

At the entrance of my own company, on my own property, I was being cornered for a fabricated debt.

It was the ultimate joke.