Chapter 1

After I got off the plane, my assistant, Reagan Judd, drove me straight to Smyth Hot Springs Club.

I was the owner of this club, and I mostly used it as a place to host my elite clients. The threshold for registering as a member of my club was quite high. While I made money from running the club, it also helped filter the clients who were worthy enough to do business with me.

At the same time, I could help connect them with others. Because of that, many elites of the business world liked to come here, sit around, talk about life, and casually gather the latest information.

That was how information gaps came about, and through them, I gradually became an untouchable new figure with immense influence in the financial world.

"Mr. Smith, Mr. Salway and Mr. Cooper of Rogmire are here tonight. Would you like to see them now?" Reagan asked.

I rubbed my temples and replied, "Okay. Ask them to come over."

I had just gotten off the plane. After soaking in a hot spring and grabbing a bottle of premium wine, I made my way toward Room 308, the private room where we had agreed to meet.

Just as I was about to push the door open, someone grabbed my arm.

"Well, well, if it isn't Kieran Smith! Weren't you supposed to make something of yourself? How did you end up as an errand boy selling wine?"

It was Brett Salway, the rich scion, who humiliated me eight years ago. A group of people stood behind him, one of whom was Zyla Garcia.

Even though eight years had passed, she was still as beautiful as ever. The only difference was that she had a faint, sorrowful frown.

I raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Yeah. The commission is high."

"After all these years, you really haven't improved at all! Back then, Brett rewarded you with a bottle of wine, and you were over the moon!"

The one speaking was Brett's lackey, Harry Holt. He shoved me rudely with ill intent, pushing me straight into Room 308. Unexpectedly, no one was inside.

"This room has been reserved. You should go to another one," I said, trying to stop them.

But Brett shoved me aside and sneered, "What are you afraid of, Kieran? Let me show you something. This is the best room in the club, and I have booked it tonight. Don't sell wine for tonight. Serve me. Be our waiter here."

As he spoke, he pulled out a bill and stuffed it into my chest pocket. "Go on, pour us some wine!"

Harry grew excited too. "Yeah, pour it! You're in luck tonight. Seeing as we're old friends, we'll buy each bottle you drink."

"This wine is very expensive," I said.

The bottle I held had been shipped from a Fieran vineyard. Each one of these cost hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Harry didn't recognize its value, but Brett did.

He scoffed and said, "If you're selling, you should have the right attitude. Do you think my family can't afford it? Open it!"

Since he insisted, I had no choice but to uncork the wine.

Brett pulled Zyla with him to sit down. Then, he poured her a glass of wine while urging me to bring food.

I wanted to leave, but Reagan had said those two clients still wanted to talk to me. Seeing as they had waited for me for two months, I couldn't very well refuse.

So, I could only stay.

I stood beside Zyla and poured her wine.

At the sight of this, Harry mocked me. "Look at that. You have good judgment, Zyla. Good thing you chose Brett back then. Otherwise, you'd probably be selling wine with Kieran right now."

"Exactly. Maybe you'd even have to wear a bunny girl outfit!" Brett chimed in.

They made fun of us without any regard. Zyla merely clenched her fists and said nothing.

I smiled lightly in response. What was wrong with selling wine?

At my club, every wine seller earned an annual salary of 300 thousand dollars plus full benefits. Wasn't that still better than working for some worthless people?

But before I could say anything, Brett spoke first. "Kieran, it's the same as before. Finish this bottle, and I'll buy two. How about it?"

Harry laughed. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Don't just stand there. Hurry up! Drink! Come on!"

I shook my head. "I can't drink. I just took some medicine."

In truth, I hadn't taken any medicine. I just didn't want to drink with them.

In my circle, people like them couldn't even get close to the outer perimeter of my club—let alone drink with me.