"We at Bosco price everything transparently. If you don't understand, it only proves your level isn't high enough."

Tina waved her hand, signaling the servers to lead us to the lounge area in the main hall.

People moved around us—guests who had come to spend tonight.

She intended to humiliate me in front of everyone.

One of my friends couldn't stand it and spoke up, "Jeff, maybe we should leave. I'll cover this."

I raised a hand to stop him. This wasn't about the cost of a single meal anymore.

Tina clipped that ridiculous bill onto a display stand and placed it on the coffee table. Her voice was neither loud nor soft, yet every word carried clearly to the surrounding tables.

"Exclusive suite atmosphere maintenance fee, ten thousand. Every private suite at Bosco has had its magnetic field calibrated by a geomancy expert to ensure the client's luck flows during business discussions. It's metaphysics. You may not understand it, but many are willing to pay for it.

"High-end social network filtration service fee, twenty thousand. Entry to Bosco is limited to the wealthy and powerful. We've blocked countless pretenders and filtered out potential trouble and risk for you. Isn't that worth the fee?"

"And this—spontaneous entertainment ambience enhancement fee. Tonight, top musicians performed outside your suite, adjusting their improvisation to the pace of your conversation. That's the value of art."

With each item she recited, murmurs rose from nearby tables. Eyes turned to me, curious, disdainful. I appeared as some clown trying to break into high society without enough money to buy a ticket.

Nick stood nearby, his face pale. He opened his mouth several times but was silenced by Tina's sharp glances. He just watched as his woman humiliated me in front of everyone, as if passing judgment.

The last thread of familial affection I had for him was almost gone.

"Finished?" I asked calmly, waiting for her to conclude.

Tina crossed her arms, chin lifted. "Finished. So, will you pay now? Don't waste any more of our business time."

"Sure," I said, nodding, pulling out my phone. "But I don't carry that much cash. My assistant will bring it."

She snorted. "Here we go again. Stalling?"

"You can choose not to believe me." I dialed my assistant. "Bring 300 thousand in cash to Bosco, immediately."

I deliberately emphasized the words: 300 thousand.

Tina's pupils constricted, and then a greedy glint sparked in her eyes. She probably assumed I was intimidated, ready to pay to smooth things over, to quiet the storm. Her gaze toward me sharpened with a hint of condescension, like looking at a fool.

"You're smart," she whispered close to my ear, just loud enough for me to hear. "Anything extra, I'll consider it the cost for offending Nick today."

…

My assistant was efficient, as always.

In less than twenty minutes, two men in black suits arrived at the club entrance, each carrying a cash box. Every eye in the lobby turned toward them.

The boxes were opened, revealing stacks of crisp bills, neatly arranged, gleaming under the chandelier.

The crowd that had been pointing and whispering moments ago went silent.

Tina's breathing grew heavier. Her eyes were fixed on the money.

Even Nick was stunned, mouth open in disbelief.

"Jeff, what are you doing? This isn't necessary—"

"Necessary or not isn't up to you," I cut him off coolly.

I signaled my assistant to push one of the boxes toward Tina.

"Eighty-eight thousand. Count it."

Her face flickered with embarrassment, but greed quickly overrode it. She actually extended her hand, pretending to carefully go through the bills.

Tina's smug, self-satisfied look made my skin crawl.

I ignored her and turned to my guests, offering an apologetic smile.

"Everyone, I'm terribly sorry for the spectacle tonight. Let me take care of all tonight's expenses. Also, I have a hot spring villa on the outskirts of the city. Next weekend, please come by and relax. Consider it my way of making amends."

These were sharp, discerning people. They immediately understood that I was reclaiming face while subtly asserting my power. They all accepted politely, and the atmosphere eased noticeably.

After seeing my friends off, the hall was left with just me, Nick, and Tina, still hunched over her cash-counting.

Nick finally lost his restraint and came over, taking my hand.

"Jeff, don't do this. Let's go home and talk, okay? Don't be mad at me."

I pulled my hand away and looked at his face, a face that suddenly felt utterly alien.

"Nick, the moment you let her humiliate me in public, you should have realized—we're never going back."

"I didn't, I…" he stammered, desperate to defend himself.

Tina finally finished counting the money. She snapped the box shut, standing tall with a self-satisfied smirk, cutting him off.

"Nick, what's there to say to him? The money's paid. It's settled. People like your poor relative shouldn't come around—it only lowers Bosco's standards."

She looped her arm through his and gave me a provocative glance.

"Oh, and by the way," she said, pointing at the remaining box, "the other 212 thousand covers my emotional distress and apology fees for Nick. I won't be shy. I'm taking it all."

She reached for the box.

"Stop," I said coldly.

Two of my bodyguards stepped forward, blocking her path.

Her face shifted. "What? Changing your mind?"

"Not exactly," I said, walking up to her, looking down from above. "I just want you to know—you can take the money, but I doubt you can spend it."

My assistant handed me a document and a pen at the right moment.

"What's this?" Tina asked, wary.

"A receipt confirmation," I said plainly. "Sign here to acknowledge receipt of the 300 thousand. Once you sign, the transaction is complete. Otherwise, not a penny leaves here."

Tina eyed the paper suspiciously but skimmed it. It listed every single "charge" from today, plus the extra "emotional distress" and "apology" fees—clear, itemized, and precise. To her, it was just a formality.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the pen and signed her name.

She tossed the document back to me, triumphant, ready to lift the remaining box.

"Now, the money's mine," she said.

"Is it?" I murmured, pocketing the signed paper. A cold curve tugged at the corner of my mouth.

I pulled out my phone, ignoring them both, and dialed another number.

The call connected, and I said, "Proceed."

…

Tina was still lost in the ecstasy of acquiring the fortune and paid no attention to my call. She carried a box in each hand, 300 thousand in total, grinning from ear to ear.

"Nick, let's go! I'll take you to buy that car you liked last time!" she said, brimming with excitement.

But Nick's face showed no joy—only deep unease. He looked at me, lips moving as if to speak, but in the end, nothing came out.

Just as Tina was about to lead him out of Bosco, the club's main doors were slammed open from the outside.

A group of men and women in matching black uniforms, faces stern, walked in.