Chapter 122: The Wrong Target

Arthur gasped. "Dad, we have to do it! Wilson promised us a twenty percent cut of the club once the deal closes... and five billion is an insane number! Not even Frank Thompson would risk losing five hundred million dollars on a single club! At five billion, we’re basically guaranteed to win!"

"Five hundred million is still half of everything our family owns if things go wrong..." Jeremiah muttered, his hand shaking over the pen.

"Dad, this is our only shot to become true top-tier royalty in Manhattan!" Arthur urged through gritted teeth. "If we take the Heavens Club tonight, we run Midtown!"

Looking into his son’s eyes, Jeremiah took a breath and made up his mind. "You’re right. No risk, no reward... putting five hundred million on the line for a seat at the top table is worth the gamble!"

Uncapping his pen, Jeremiah pressed hard on the paper, wrote down $5,000,000,000, and signed his name across the seal.

Fifty feet away at the main VIP table, Frank Thompson didn’t waste a single second overthinking it...

Opening his folder, the old man wrote down $3,000,000,000 and handed it to his lawyer.

To the Thompsons, buying the club for three billion was a fair trade; and if some crazy person actually bid higher, losing three hundred million wouldn’t even hurt their yearly profits.

Across the rest of the room, dozens of smaller bosses scribbled down random numbers, praying for a miracle.

Only Jude stayed leaning against the pillar with his hands in his pockets, not caring at all.

From the stage, Vanessa Canfield looked across the crowd at Jude, whispered something to her assistant, picked up a fresh folder, and walked over to him.

Stopping in front of Jude, Vanessa held out the folder with both hands and gave a bow. "Mr. Lawson, Miss Lee mentioned before walking backstage that you were interested in the club tonight, so she asked me to bring you a folder personally."

Jude looked down at the folder and let out a laugh. "You two really set up a trap tonight just to rob every billionaire in the city blind. That boss of yours really doesn’t have a single nice bone in her body, does she?"

"You can look at it however you like, Mr. Lawson," Vanessa smiled. "Of course, if you don’t want to bid, you don’t have to."

Jude paused for two seconds, took the pen from her hand, flipped the folder open against his arm, and wrote down $100,000 without blinking.

Seeing the tiny number before Jude snapped the folder shut, Vanessa’s eye twitched.

Offering a hundred grand for a multi-billion-dollar landmark meant Jude wasn’t even pretending to take this seriously...

Handing the folder back, Jude gave her a look. "Tell your boss behind the curtain something for me: Chelsea Lee still owes me for scratching my car’s bumper earlier tonight. When my hundred-thousand-dollar bid loses, tell her to take my ten-thousand-dollar fee straight out of the repair bill... and don’t even think about asking me for a single dime!"

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Holding the folder against her dress, Vanessa Canfield stared at Jude, totally at a loss for words.

Even after reading all the intel on his background, her brain still short-circuited trying to process this: the legendary Mr. Lawson, sitting on a fortune worth over a trillion dollars, was standing in a gilded ballroom arguing over a ten-thousand-dollar scratch on his car!

A few minutes later, the twenty-minute timer hit zero...

Every sealed envelope was locked inside the ballot box at the front of the room.

As Vanessa and four accountants carried the box backstage to count the numbers, Chelsea Lee walked back onto the stage, tapping the mic with a smile.

"While Vanessa and our finance team check the bids in the back," Chelsea said, "let’s clear the dance floor for a quick waltz to kill the suspense!"

Across the tables, the older CEOs looked at each other like she had lost her mind.

With billions of dollars on the line and that brutal ten-percent penalty hanging over their heads like an axe, who in their right mind was in the mood to dance?!

The younger rich heirs in the room, however, immediately locked in.

Finding out that the gorgeous girl on stage was the mysterious boss of the Heavens Club changed everything...

Even if their families lost the bid tonight, getting a single three-minute dance with Chelsea Lee meant getting a foot in the door with the mastermind behind Midtown’s most powerful network!

All around the dance floor, dozens of rich young guys started fixing their ties and checking their cuffs, getting ready to rush over and ask her to dance.

Back by the pillars, though, Jude suddenly remembered something...

Earlier, right after they hopped the back wall and snuck inside, hadn’t Chelsea complained that she wanted to dance... and even joked that he’d have to be her partner when the music started?

Wait a second... she isn’t actually about to walk over here in front of three hundred people, is she?

Before the thought even finished crossing his mind, Chelsea’s playful eyes scanned the room and locked straight onto his corner.

Her lips curved into a wicked little smile. She put the mic back on the stand, stepped down from the stage, and began walking in her heels straight toward his pillar.

Jude stood frozen on the carpet for a second, genuinely wondering if it was too late to slip out onto the balcony.

In front of him, the crowd of billionaires parted like the sea, everyone stepping back to make a path while holding their breath to see who had caught the boss’s eye.

Standing right in the middle of that cleared path was Arthur Snyder.

Arthur had always prided himself on his looks, his height, and his smooth moves.

Seeing Chelsea Lee walking right toward him with a smile, his heart raced with triumph.

She’s coming straight for me!

To Arthur, it made total sense...

Who else around here had the looks and the money to match the founder of the Heavens Club?

Fixing his tux jacket with a smug smile, he was already rehearsing what to say as Chelsea stopped right in front of him.

"Would you like to dance with me?"