Chapter 83

Matthew hated the club's rules. He didn't want to go upstairs. Only his concern for Rachel's safety had compelled him to enter.

"You'll have to go to the second floor alone. Call me if you need anything. I'll be waiting downstairs."

Rachel smiled apologetically. "I'll be back soon."

Jeffrey said to Rachel, "Sorry, Rachel. It's not that I don't want to take him, he just doesn't belong here. Besides, Hailey took the last spot."

"Honestly, it's for the best. He wouldn't understand our business talk; he'd only get in the way."

Though Jeffrey attempted to sound apologetic, he was clearly ridiculing Matthew.

Rachel's expression turned cold. "I'm here on business. Drop it."

She turned to Matthew, handing him the membership card. "Find a place to relax and grab a drink."

Matthew remained worried about Rachel. "Call me if anything happens. I'll be there."

The two burly guards by the elevator didn't intimidate Matthew. He felt confident he could reach the second floor anytime.

Jeffrey snickered. "You're not even qualified to go upstairs. Keep your nose out of this. Some things are beyond your league."

As Jeffrey spoke, the elevator doors slowly closed.

Matthew fixed a cold, warning gaze on Jeffrey.

Jeffrey didn't flinch, meeting his gaze with a menacing, viper-like stare. Their deadly standoff continued until the elevator doors closed, separating them.

Matthew had a bad feeling, but he could only hold his phone and wait for Rachel's call. The Opulent Club membership card in his hand irritated him. He took it to the reception desk.

Two pretty women at the reception stood as he approached. "How may we help you?"

Matthew tossed the card on the desk and shouted, "Get me a refund!"

The two receptionists were shocked. New memberships were difficult to obtain, requiring a sponsor. Many desired membership, but few succeeded. Meanwhile, Matthew wanted a refund.

One receptionist was baffled. "Why do you want to return the card? Are you abroad? We have clubs in other cities—"

Matthew cut her off. "I don't like your club."

As he spoke, a voice called from behind him, "Who has a problem with the club?"

A man in his fifties entered. He had monolids, thin lips, a small mustache, neatly combed hair, a suit, and gold-rimmed glasses.

The two receptionists respectfully greeted him, "Mr. Miller."

Matthew said slowly, "I don't like your club. I'd like a refund."

Marty Miller, the manager, regarded him with a cold, aloof look. "Hey, young man, our membership is highly sought after. You're giving yours up? Do you have any idea how much you're losing? I'll have you know—"

He stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on Matthew's ring, trembling slightly.

He mumbled, "You… Is your last name… Grant?"

Matthew was dumbfounded. "Yes, my last name is Grant."

Marty's voice was filled with excitement. "You're finally here! I've been waiting for you every day!"

Matthew was bewildered. "You've got the wrong person. I'm here to cancel my membership."

Marty leaned in. "If you find anything unsatisfactory, please tell us, Mr. Grant. We'll make sure to improve."

Matthew didn't understand Marty's sudden change of attitude. He assumed a case of mistaken identity.

Still, he disliked the Opulent Club. "No matter what you do, I'll never come back."

Marty's expression turned bitter. "This club was built for you, Mr. Grant. If you're not returning, there's no point in keeping it."