2025-04-11 18:18:11As Mr. Webb entered, a wave of submission swept through the lounge. Every head bowed. Employees straightened their backs, hostesses folded their hands, and the music lowered as if the walls themselves knew better than to offend him.
Carl Webb owned this place. Evergreen Lounge was his kingdom, and in his eyes, only the worthy deserved to be in his presence. His gaze was sharp, his stance unwavering—a man accustomed to power, to having the world bend to his will.
Raymond’s girlfriend was enthralled.
This was the kind of power she craved—the command, the respect, the fear. But a part of her wished this was Jerry Haas instead. If Carl Webb commanded this level of submission, she could only imagine what it would be like when Jerry walked into a room.
Carl walked up to Raymond, greeting him with a firm handshake, the kind exchanged between men who knew their places in the hierarchy. But his eyes barely lingered before shifting to the unwelcome presence standing nearby.
Jackson.
Carl’s face darkened.
How had this nobody even made it past the door?
Tricia and the other hostesses stiffened. They knew Carl’s type—men who saw themselves as kings, who despised anything that reminded them of peasants and paupers. Jackson was a stain on the room, a mockery of everything Evergreen Lounge represented.
It was a shame they had let him in at all.
Carl didn’t hesitate.
He closed the distance between himself and Jackson, scanning him from head to toe as if assessing a cockroach on his pristine floor.
Then—a slap.
The second slap of the night.
Jackson’s head snapped to the side, the sharp sting echoing in the suffocating silence of the room.
A barrage of insults followed.
"Miserable fool. Polluting my establishment with your presence."
"You should be licking the floor beneath my feet."
"Who gave you the audacity to confront a VIP? To even breathe the same air as my esteemed guests?"
Carl’s voice dripped with disgust, his words slicing through the room like a blade.
Raymond’s girlfriend was ecstatic.
She laughed, clapped, practically jumped with excitement. This was power. Raw, unfiltered dominance. She loved every second of it. But she couldn't help but imagine—what if it was Jerry instead?
Jackson held his cheek but didn’t flinch.
He simply smiled.
He had done nothing wrong. His entire life, he had asked for just one thing—to be treated like a human being. Yet men like Tyler, Linda, Jonah, Raymond, and Carl always found ways to remind him that, in their eyes, he was nothing.
He swallowed the pain.
He said nothing.
He would wait for Jerry Haas to arrive and finish what he came for.
But Carl wasn’t done yet.
He saw the way Raymond’s girlfriend was looking at him—like a god. And it fueled his pride.
Why stop now?
"Crawl," Carl commanded, his voice thick with arrogance.
The room stilled.
Carl smirked, turning to the exotic woman who was practically wrapped around his arm now.
"Apologize to the lady," he ordered Jackson. "On your knees."
The woman beamed.
This? This was a real man. Someone who could demand submission and get it. She held onto Carl’s arm, forgetting Raymond entirely, waiting for the moment Jackson would bow before her.
But Jackson didn’t move.
He didn’t even blink.
He simply scoffed.
Carl’s smirk disappeared.
This wasn’t just defiance—it was an insult.
His face twisted with rage. "Get him on the ground," he barked at the security team.
Immediately, the head of security and his men seized Jackson, their grips tight and unforgiving. They were just about to force him down when—
DING.
The elevator opened.
And everything stopped.
The music cut out. Conversations died mid-sentence. Glasses were placed down carefully.
A collective chill ran through the room.
Carl’s heart skipped.
He already knew.
Only one man could command this kind of silence.
Jerry Haas.
Jerry rushed out of the elevator, which was unusual, as he always walked majestically. His move this time could only mean one thing to everyone who saw him—there was trouble.
Jerry Haas is the head of management at Sky Tower; he was two hundred million dollars shy from a billionaire. He was powerful and highly connected, especially since everyone knows he worked for the subordinate of the owner of Sky Tower.
Also, he was highly respected by everyone.
Carl’s face tightened. He quickly signaled the security to keep things quiet. If Mr. Haas saw this mess, he’d be humiliated. Worse—he could lose everything.
The woman’s grip on Carl loosened.
Her eyes widened as she adjusted herself, hoping to look as irresistible as possible. This was her moment.
But Jerry wasn’t looking at her.
He wasn’t looking at Carl.
He was looking at Jackson.
Then, to the horror of everyone in the room—
He bowed.
A full 90-degree bow.
"Mr. Hart, I am deeply sorry for my lateness. Please forgive your humble servant!"
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Chapter 600: Reflections And Memories!
Copper's brow furrowed. "Frame him?"Whitaker held up the passport. "Think about it. Why would Jerry leave his wallet behind? He's too smart to make a mistake like that. He's been in security for years. He knows better than to leave evidence at a crime scene."Copper considered this, his expression thoughtful. "So someone planted it. Someone who wanted us to find it.""Or someone who wanted us to waste time chasing a ghost while they moved Philip somewhere else," Whitaker said.Copper's jaw tightened. "Either way, we need to find Jerry. Talk to him. Find out what he knows."Whitaker nodded, slipping the wallet into his evidence bag. "I'll put a team on it. Track down his family, his last known address. See if anyone's heard from him."They walked back to the car, the weight of the mystery pressing down on them."If he's innocent," Copper said quietly, "someone's going to great lengths to make him look guilty."Whitaker opened the driver's side door. "Then we need to find out who. And
Chapter 599: Jerry Hass Is Back!
Evans was now sitting on the edge of a cot in the medical bay, his shirt removed, his chest already blooming with purple and black bruises where the bullet had struck."Your vest saved your life," Lorraine said, her voice tight. "But you've got at least two cracked ribs and severe bruising. You need rest. You need to stay off your feet."Evans shook his head, wincing at the movement. "I can't rest, Lorraine. Philip is out there. Every hour we waste, he could be—""Could be dead if you push yourself too hard," Lorraine interrupted, her eyes flashing. "You're no good to anyone if you collapse."Evans met her gaze, his jaw tight. "I've had worse."Lorraine sighed, pressing a cold pack to his ribs. "I know. That's what scares me."Jackson stood in the doorway, his phone in his hand. "Whitaker is tracking the sedan. We'll find them."Evans nodded slowly. "I'm going with him."Jackson opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He knew that look in Evans's eyes—the same look he himself wore
Chapter 598: You Could Have Been Killed!
Two police officers arrived at Clara's hospital room within the hour—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a young man with a notepad. Clara sat up in her bed, her hands trembling, her voice hoarse from crying."Mrs. Lahm, I'm Officer Daniels, and this is Officer Reeves," the woman said gently. "We understand your son is missing. Can you tell us everything you remember?"Clara nodded, wiping her eyes. "Philip. He's seventeen. He went to get me noodles from the shop on Fifth and Main. That was around seven o'clock. He should have been back by eight. It's almost midnight now."Officer Reeves scribbled notes. "Does Philip have any friends he might have visited? Any places he likes to go?"Clara shook her head. "No. He's a good boy. He doesn't party. He doesn't stay out late. He comes straight back. He always comes straight back.""Do you know of anyone who might want to harm him?" Officer Daniels asked.Clara's face went pale. "No. Everyone loves Philip. He's kind, he's helpful, he's—"
Chapter 597: A Missing Person!
Consciousness returned slowly, like swimming up through dark water. Philip's head throbbed with a dull, insistent pain, and his mouth tasted of copper and chemicals. He tried to move, but his wrists wouldn't budge. Rope, coarse and tight, bit into his skin.He opened his eyes.A single light bulb hung above, casting harsh shadows on concrete walls. The room was small, windowless, with a heavy metal door that looked like it belonged on a bunker. The floor was cold beneath him—bare concrete, stained with years of neglect.Philip's heart pounded. He pulled at the ropes, but they held fast."Hey."The voice came from somewhere to his left, soft but clear. Philip turned his head, wincing at the pain that shot through his neck.A woman sat in the corner of the room, her wrists bound like his, her ankles tethered to a metal ring bolted to the floor. She was thin, pale, with dark circles under her eyes, but her gaze was steady. She looked like she had been here for a long time."Who are you?"
Chapter 596: Just Let Me Go!
Linda's brow furrowed. "That's not an answer.""It is an answer." Peniel set down the phone, finally turning to face her. "The international observers don't speculate. They don't deal in rumors or myths. If they say the veil is tearing, then the veil is tearing. If they say ancient beings are trying to cross over, then ancient beings are trying to cross over."Linda's face paled. "You believe them."Peniel nodded slowly. "I have to. Because if they're wrong, then I've wasted years building connections with people who deal in fairy tales. And if they're right..." He trailed off, unable to finish."Then we have nowhere to run," Linda finished for him.Peniel was silent for a long moment. The flicker of the fluorescent bulbs cast dancing shadows on the walls, making the warehouse feel like a cage."There's always somewhere to run," he said finally. "The question is whether it's worth it."Linda stood, pulling him to his feet. "Then let's go. Now. Before the mercenaries do something we ca
Chapter 595: Return Of The International Observers!
The warehouse on the outskirts of the city was dark, lit only by a few flickering fluorescent bulbs overhead. Crates and pallets were stacked against the walls, their contents obscured by dust and shadows. In the center of the space, a makeshift meeting area had been arranged—a table, several chairs, and a single lamp casting a pool of light on the worn concrete floor.Peniel sat at the table, his arm bandaged from where one of the CIA's bullet had grazed him. Linda sat beside him, her hands clasped in her lap, her face pale, her eyes darting nervously toward the shadows. Across from them sat three figures—Dmitry, Aziel, and Zhang, the three international observers.They had left the city six months ago, scattering to different corners of the globe, but Peniel had kept in contact. Now, he needed them."Thank you for coming," Peniel began.Dmitry held up a hand. "Save your thanks. We didn't come out of friendship. We came because the situation has become... complicated."Peniel's eyes
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