As Yvette and Jeremiah entered the Sky Nimbus lobby, they immediately commanded attention. A striking pair, they were the undeniable focus wherever they went. Andrew and Bonnie, though also attractive and noticeable, were easily overshadowed.

Those who had witnessed yesterday's gambling event were deeply impressed by Yvette—the woman who had provoked Seacrity's deputy mayor's son into a fit of rage that resulted in a bloody cough. Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"See that lady in black? She won a hundred million dollars from Ethan yesterday, in one go!" one person exclaimed.

"Really? I don't believe it!" another responded.

"Don't believe it? You're so behind the times! I saw it myself. Ethan was so furious, he coughed up blood!"

Jeremiah overheard the murmurs. Leaning towards Yvette, he whispered, "Was the win thrilling?"

A tingling sensation crept up Yvette's neck, causing slight discomfort. She subtly moved away, but Jeremiah, unperturbed, casually closed the distance. Yvette pulled up her jacket hood and remained silent. Jeremiah chuckled lightly, showing no displeasure.

Seconds later, Yvette popped a candy into her mouth. Within a minute, her racing heart calmed. Her old condition, it seemed, had flared up again.

That day, Jimmy Lowe, another manager, was on duty. He'd heard about yesterday's events from the staff. He was preoccupied; headquarters had informed him the general manager would arrive by 8 p.m., and he'd spent the day preparing for the reception. This general manager, a close confidant of the chairman, was an unusual visitor; typically, regional managers handled inspections. Sky Nimbus buzzed with anticipation.

Jimmy harbored his own ambitions. His long tenure hinged on this opportunity; a transfer to Betrico's headquarters depended on it.

Amidst the flurry of activity, staff reported Yvette's presence—dining in the VIP room. Jimmy dismissed it. Sky Nimbus saw its share of wealthy and influential patrons; a hundred-million-dollar win wasn't worth a personal greeting. He casually instructed the staff to attend to the guests and continued overseeing kitchen preparations.

Jeremiah, Yvette, Andrew, and Bonnie settled into the VIP room. Only Bonnie felt uneasy; the others were accustomed to such extravagance. To mask her discomfort, she idly flipped through the menu. Having not paid close attention during Ryan's earlier treat, she was shocked to discover a plate of pasta cost $300. Food or gold? she wondered. Jeremiah ordered twelve dishes, all Yvette's favorites. The waitress looked surprised, questioning their ability to consume such a quantity. Andrew and Bonnie, familiar with Yvette's appetite, remained silent; nothing went to waste with Yvette present.

Andrew adopted a mysterious air. "Yvette, Bonnie told me a big guy gave you money yesterday. Are you involved with the mafia? Is it exciting? Think I could join?" He spoke with unnerving seriousness.

Yvette lowered her phone, took a sip of water, and gave Andrew a long, steady look. "I'll ask around for you. Joining the mafia usually involves losing a hand, or something. Be prepared."

"In that case, I'll pass. My hands are important," Andrew chuckled nervously.

Yvette nodded. Her neck, tanned and alluring in the light, drew his gaze. "Sure—think about it."

A chill ran down Andrew's spine, as if his hand had already been severed. He pulled his jacket tighter. "No, no—no more thinking needed."

Yvette set down her glass; Jeremiah casually refilled it. She took another sip. "Don't scare him," Jeremiah said. "He's had this idea since he was eight."

Bonnie, her curiosity piqued, boldly asked, "What happened next, Top Dog?"

The nickname made Jeremiah pause, glancing at Andrew. "His dad tied him to a tree and lectured him until he quieted down."

Andrew bristled, searching his mind for leverage against Jeremiah, to no avail. Jeremiah was Betrico's top elite, Clusia's youngest major general at 27. He lived comfortably on company shares alone, possessing diverse skills and talents. He'd been a childhood nemesis to Betrico's younger generation; everyone sought to surpass him, yet none could, forever living in his shadow.

Three luxury cars pulled up outside Sky Nimbus. A dozen bodyguards emerged from the rear two. The remaining car door opened, revealing a pair of black leather shoes. The man, in his forties, wore a black suit, his face etched with the passage of time. It was Hector Kirk, Sky Nimbus's general manager and Harry, the chairman's, most trusted confidant. He was there because of yesterday's gambling incident.

Years had passed since Hector last saw Yvette; she'd blossomed into a young woman. He was relieved to learn she could effortlessly afford a hundred million dollars. He sighed, thinking, What Mr. Ross did back then was ruthless!

Seeing Hector, Jimmy straightened his uniform and obsequiously approached. "Good evening, Mr. Kirk. I'm the manager, Jimmy Lowe."

Hector cut him off; he wasn't there for pleasantries. He'd find Yvette and return to Mysonna. "Mr. Lowe, let's be direct. Do you have the membership information for the woman who bet a hundred million dollars with Ethan yesterday?"

Jimmy was dumbfounded. Hector wasn't conducting an inspection; he was here for Yvette, someone seemingly unconnected to him. "Mr. Kirk, she's not a member. So... we don't have her information," he stammered, nervously glancing at Hector's grim expression, breaking into a cold sweat.

A waiter behind Jimmy recognized Yvette, recalling her dinner in a private room. He quickly stepped forward. "Mr. Kirk, the lady is dining in the VIP room."

Jimmy remembered the waiter's earlier report, forgotten amidst the preparations for Hector's arrival. Just as Hector resigned himself to a fruitless endeavor, fate intervened. Yvette was, coincidentally, dining at Sky Nimbus. Over the years, Hector and his boss had faced countless disappointments.

"Let's go. Take me to the private room now." Hector glanced at the waiter, then at Jimmy. "Promote him to team leader."

Sky Nimbus had a rigorous system; promotion from waiter to team leader took at least five years, requiring flawless completion of three assessments.

The waiter was overcome with joy. A tripled salary offered a glimmer of hope, thoughts turning to his bedridden father.

Jimmy nodded and led Hector to the private room. Sky Nimbus's private rooms were exceptionally soundproof; no sounds emanated from within.