Chapter 657: A Fun At The Clubhouse

Alpha, downstairs, and Annabelle, upstairs, stared at each other. Joyce stepped forward, shielding Annabelle. "Mr. Augustine, we've seen you. We have things to do." She left with Annabelle.

Alpha watched Annabelle disappear, his lips pursed. He rushed upstairs, but they were gone. Reuben approached. "Sir," he said.

Alpha's handsome face was bathed in flickering light. He said solemnly, "Follow them. I want to know where they went."

"Yes, sir."

Joyce, outside the hall, turned to Annabelle. "Annabelle, honestly, do you still want to reunite with him?"

Annabelle's cold beauty held no emotion. She smiled. "Even if he's the only man left, I'd rather die single."

Joyce nodded emphatically. "Good. He hurt you deeply, forced you into a desperate situation. He's married to Lily now. His sister, Bounty, and the entire Augustine family dislike you—except Mrs. Samantha. Don't forget what you endured because of him."

The future felt uncertain. Annabelle stood gracefully on the street, the evening breeze caressing her dress.

Joyce, still angry with Alpha, spotted a high-end club. She hugged Annabelle. "Annabelle, he's old. Forget him. Let's have some fun."

"Recreation?" Annabelle questioned.

"Yes! I wanted to take you to a spa, but you refused. This time, let's find some attractive men. They say the ones here are incredibly hot. Let's have a good time tonight!"

Annabelle eyed Joyce. "Joyce, this isn't wise. Aren't you afraid President Damien will find out?"

Joyce frowned, remembering him. "What does he have to do with it?"

"You forgot he reported you and caused trouble? If we go out with young men, I don't know what he'll do."

"Men have fun since time immemorial, but not women? Tonight, we'll break the double standard! Annabelle, dare you?" Joyce's beautiful face shone with anticipation.

Annabelle smiled. "Okay, let's go."

A proud smile graced Joyce's face. Hand in hand, they entered the clubhouse.

Inside the most luxurious room, Joyce called, "Boss, send your best male workers. We'll choose. We have money!"

The club manager, clapping excitedly, addressed a line of handsome men. "Boys, you're lucky! Rich women need impressing. Make them happy, and you'll earn big tonight!"

"Got it, ma'am," they replied.

"Upstairs now," the manager instructed. In the hallway, she warned, "Most are old. Ignore their faces, focus on their wallets. Money is all that matters, understood?"

They nodded eagerly. At the luxurious room, the manager knocked.

"Come in," a soft voice answered.

The manager entered, followed by the men. "Beautiful ladies, our best. Choose whoever you want."

She froze. Where are the rich women? she wondered.

Annabelle and Joyce, in pink silk nightdresses after showering, lay on rattan chairs. Their beauty stunned the manager. They were more beautiful than the club's top beauties. She'd seen rich young women, but never this stunning!

Joyce applied lotion, then looked at the men. "Raise your heads."

Their eyes widened. They'd never seen such beauty. Not their girlfriends, not even actresses.

"Annabelle, choose first," Joyce said generously.

Annabelle's cold gaze fell on one man—handsome and cold, someone familiar.

Joyce's gaze followed. The man's heart skipped a beat.

The manager laughed. "My lady, excellent choice! He's our star. You might have heard of Alpha Augustine, Imperial's top businessman thirty years ago. This man looks just like him."