Eight years ago, my first love, Zyla Garcia, dumped me. Right in front of me, she threw herself into the arms of a rich scion named Brett Salway.

She said condescendingly, "Kieran, you asked me to wait for you for three years. But how many three years does a woman have?"

I begged her desperately, but she remained unmoved. Brett even ordered someone to pin me to the ground and force me to finish a bottle of red wine before letting me leave.

"You should thank me, Kieran. Otherwise, you would never have the chance to drink such expensive wine in your life!" Brett sneers.

I watched as they got into a luxury car and drove off.

Eight years later, I am one of the most powerful figures in this city—and I run into them again.

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.

Brett looked displeased as he patted my face. "Kieran, you've got quite an attitude. You're selling wine here, but you refuse to drink, huh? Does your boss know?"

I replied steadily, "He does. The boss said we have full discretion to decide if we want to drink or not."

Harry slammed the table and said, "You put on quite a convincing act. Your boss might've said that, but what he didn't say is that when your client is Brett, you will have to drink no matter what!"

Brett liked what Harry said. He lifted his chin at me and continued, "You won't be able to save enough to buy a bottle of this even after working your whole life, you country bumpkin. Come on, pour the wine!"

Harry immediately played along. "Brett is right. Who knows? Maybe he'll enjoy it. The only fitting job for a poor loser like him is to stand here and serve us."

The two of them chortled mockingly.

I looked at Zyla. She remained silent the whole time as she sat beside Brett. Occasionally, she glanced at me. Her eyes carried a hint of resentment and a trace of unease at my suffering.

I glanced at Brett and noticed that neither of them wore rings. Eight years had passed. Why weren't they married? How many eight years did a woman even have?

Zyla really wasn't thinking straight.

I poured her a glass and was about to leave when Harry grabbed me.

He jeered, "Don't go. Didn't your club train you to do your job? The guests are still here. Where do you think you're going? Give us some entertainment like singing or dancing, or whatever."

Brett's eyes lit up. "Right. I remember that you won a place in one of the college singing contests. You used your guitar skills to win over our campus belle! Isn't that right, Zyla? You fell for his pretty-boy act back then, didn't you?"

Zyla showed a trace of embarrassment upon being suddenly pulled into Brett's arms.

I smiled faintly, expecting her to mock or belittle me.

But she said, "No."

Everyone looked at her.

Zyla said seriously, "Kieran never lied to me. I willingly became his girlfriend."

At those words, Brett let out a cold snort. "What's this? Are you reminiscing about the past now? Do you regret it? Let me tell you. Even if you regret it, it's too late!"

I was a bit surprised. Had Zyla lost her mind? Or did she find out about my current status and was deliberately putting on a show?

But that didn't make sense. I hadn't been back for eight years. After being humiliated by Brett back then, I left and swore that I would make something of myself.

Even though I was back, Reagan was the one managing the club. Other than my close confidants, no one knew who I really was.

So what was going on with Zyla?

Before I could figure it out, Harry walked over and patted my shoulder. "We're talking to you, punk! Go on, sing something! You'd better entertain Brett. If he's happy, he'll give you a tip. You'll be hitting the jackpot if he does that."

His group of friends grew excited as well.

"Yeah, hurry up!"

"You're out here promoting wine. Stop holding on to your nonexistent dignity."

"Sing a song! Either that, or go on and dance!"

I flashed them a polite smile. "I stopped doing that a long time ago. My health hasn't been great these past two years. My knee's injured, so I can't dance. As for singing, I'm sad to tell you that my voice is unable to do that anymore."

A few years back, I drank too much at business events and ruined my voice. Thus, I couldn't sing anymore. The knee injury was real as well, as I'd been in a car accident.

Brett immediately grew annoyed. "Kieran, are you asking for trouble? You won't drink, and you won't sing. Are you deliberately going against me?"

He shot his posse a look. Harry understood instantly and stepped forward with another guy to pin me down from both sides.

Harry roared, "How dare you oppose Brett, you pauper! You're asking for it! We're going to make you drink no matter what!"

As they spoke, they tried to force wine down my throat.

I responded coldly, "Brett, this is an exclusive club, not your home. Are you sure you want to cause trouble in this private room?"

Brett froze for a moment. "Are you threatening me?

I replied, "Firstly, this room was already reserved, and the person who booked it wasn't you. This bottle of wine wasn't for you either. You forced me to open it and took over the room, and now you want to force me to drink? You'd better think carefully about the consequences."

My words made them hesitate.

Someone beside Brett said, "I've heard the owner of Smyth Hot Springs Club holds grudges. Also, only VIP clients can book Room 308."

Others spoke up one after another.

"Maybe we should just let it go, Brett."

"Yeah, I think this pauper is trying to set you up. He deliberately brought us here."

"Let's go somewhere else. We'll have plenty of chances to deal with this guy later."

I broke free from them and rubbed my sore shoulder.

Just then, Brett snapped back to his senses and slammed the table. "What's there to be afraid of? My uncle and Mr. Cooper are hosting an important guest tonight, and this is the room they reserved. In other words, the Salway family booked this room. So, I'm free to use this room as I please."

Harry immediately chimed in, "Exactly! Why can't Brett use this room as he pleases? Kieran, you've got some nerve threatening Brett. Let's see if the club owner will back you up!"

Brett sneered. "That's right. Either you finish the drink, or you bark like a dog for us. Otherwise, even if the club owner shows up, I won't give a damn."

He became arrogant again, just like eight years ago.

But I was no longer the person I had been back then.

I asked, "Brett, what if I'm the VIP guest your uncle is hosting tonight?"

The room fell silent.

After a moment, laughter erupted from everywhere.

Brett laughed so hard his whole body shook. Harry and the others nearly collapsed onto the floor. Zyla looked at me with a complicated expression on her face.

I shrugged. I knew they wouldn't believe me.

"Kieran, have you been reading too many novels? If you want to act tough like the male leads, you should at least have a better sense of your own worth."

"Exactly. If you're really Mr. Salway's VIP guest, I'll eat my shoe!"

Brett walked over and patted my face, this time with some force. My cheek stung slightly.

He said scornfully, "No matter who comes to help you today, you're not getting away!"

"Forget it, Brett. He's just an employee. Why bother?" Zyla suddenly said.

I didn't expect that Zyla would step in to speak up for me. But at this moment, her words had the unintended effect of fanning the flames even more.

Sure enough, Brett turned and grabbed her chin to force her to look right at him. "Are you feeling sorry for him now? You're so shameless. If you feel bad for him, fine. You drink! Finish it, and I'll let him go."

Before I could say anything, Zyla picked up the bottle and started drinking straight from it.

"Stop drinking, Zyla! There's no need to do this!" I snatched it from her.

She gripped my wrist. "If I finish it, you can leave. Don't overestimate yourself. You can't win against them."

She insisted on drinking, but I refused to let her.

Brett grew impatient and shouted, "Damn it! Quit acting all affectionate in front of me. Do you take me for a fool? Get lost!"

He shoved Zyla aside, grabbed the bottle, and poured it over my head. "Kneel, you worthless trash!"

I looked at him and sneered. "Brett, you're going to regret this."

"How dare you still talk back? Beat him up!"

At Brett's command, Harry and the others lunged at me.

I dodged sideways to avoid them.

Harry bellowed furiously, "Think you can dodge? Get over here!"

They moved in again. I grabbed the bottle and threw it forcefully to the ground.

As the loud crash rang out, everybody froze.

I said menacingly, "None of you are leaving today!"

The next second, the door to the private room opened.

An aged voice rang out, "Who dares threaten the Salway family?"

"Uncle Edmond!" Brett's eyes lit up as he hastily pointed at me. "It's him!"

I took a tissue, wiped my hands, and turned to face them. "That's right. It was me."