"I'd like to join immediately," Alexander said, placing his black card on the receptionist's desk with quiet confidence.The receptionist's eyes widened as she picked up the card with trembling fingers. "Of course, Mr. Howard. Let me process this right away."She swiped the card through her terminal, and both of them watched as the transaction was approved without any delays or complications. The ease with which a million-dollar charge went through seemed to stun her into silence."Welcome to the Gentleman's Club, Mr. Howard," she said breathlessly. "If there's anything at all you need during your time here, please don't hesitate to ask me personally."Alexander nodded curtly and walked past her desk into the exclusive club beyond. He had no interest in her fawning attention – his only goal was finding the third ring or whoever possessed it.The interior of the Gentleman's Club was even more opulent than the lobby. Rich mahogany paneling covered the walls, leather furniture was arrange

The tension in the room was palpable as more wealthy members gathered around Alexander, their expressions a mixture of skepticism and barely contained hostility. The auction had come to a complete standstill as everyone waited to see whether the mysterious newcomer could back up his unprecedented bid."This is absolutely ridiculous," declared Benjamin Crawford, a heavyset man with gold teeth who owned several casinos. "A ten million dollar bid from someone we've never seen before? It's obviously a scam.""Exactly," agreed Preston Whitmore, a thin man with nervous eyes who ran a chain of luxury hotels. "New members don't just walk in here and start throwing around that kind of money. It's clearly a bluff to make an impression.""I am definitely not bluffing," Alexander said firmly, his voice carrying an authority that made several members take an unconscious step back."Then prove it," Tony demanded, his face still flushed with anger and embarrassment. "Show us this magical black card

When Alexander heard Cornelius Vanderbilt introduce himself as the owner of this horrific establishment, rage burned through his veins like molten steel.Every instinct screamed at him to tear this man apart for the countless lives he had destroyed through his human trafficking operation.But something deeper than conscious thought held him back – a discipline so ingrained it felt like breathing.His military training, whatever fragments remained in his muscle memory, kicked in automatically.His face remained perfectly composed, his breathing steady, his posture relaxed. To any observer, he appeared completely calm.Alexander realized that if anyone would know about the mysterious hooded figure with the third ring, it would be Vanderbilt.The owner of an operation this sophisticated would have connections throughout the criminal underworld."Mr. Howard," Vanderbilt continued smoothly, "a man who can casually spend ten million dollars clearly has refined tastes. Perhaps I can interest

"The only thing we're going to work out," Vanderbilt replied coldly, "is how much pain you experience before you tell us the truth."Tony's face was flushed with vindictive satisfaction as he watched Alexander being surrounded. "I told you this cockroach was trouble! He probably works for the FBI or DEA!""That's an interesting theory," Vanderbilt mused. "Are you a cop, Mr. Howard? Or whoever you really are?""I'm not law enforcement," Alexander said truthfully."Then what are you?" Vanderbilt demanded. "Corporate spy? Rival organization? Freelance blackmailer?"Alexander realized that any answer he gave would only make his situation worse. Vanderbilt clearly wasn't going to be satisfied with evasions or half-truths."I told you, I'm a collector looking for a specific item. Nothing more complicated than that.""Bullshit!" Tony exploded. "Nobody goes to this much trouble for some antique ring! You're here for a reason, and I guarantee it's not collecting!"Vanderbilt studied Alexander'

While Alexander was engaged in his violent confrontation with Vanderbilt's security team, another presence lurked in the shadows of the Gentleman's Club.The hooded figure who had murdered Anna Morrison was conducting his own dark business in a private room on the club's upper floors, far from the human trafficking auction that occupied most members' attention.The figure sat motionless in the dimly lit chamber, his face hidden beneath the deep cowl of his cloak.Around his finger, the third ring pulsed with a cold, malevolent energy that seemed to drink in the darkness itself.Suddenly, the ring grew warm against his skin.The sensation was subtle at first, but it quickly intensified until the metal seemed to burn with otherworldly fire.The figure's head snapped up with predatory alertness as he realized what this meant.Someone else with one of the rings was in the building. Close. Very close.The hooded figure rose from his chair with fluid grace, his movements carrying that same