In the evening, Mark drove a sleek black Rolls-Royce, escorting Jason and Megan to the prestigious star Club's coastal estate in Miami's upscale Sanya District.
The party was hosted in a seaside villa, its modern architecture lit up against the twilight sky, palm trees swaying in the warm ocean breeze. The environment was as luxurious as it was exclusive.
Inside, the crowd was different from the so-called "luxury car alliances" Jason had seen before. Here, every guest was the real deal—old money, corporate elites, and celebrities. Everyone wore top-tier designer suits and dresses, with watches that cost more than a million dollars apiece.
At the entrance, each attendee received a membership badge—a subtle but powerful symbol of their standing within the club. Status wasn't hidden here; it was displayed openly on the chest for all to see.
When people caught sight of the badge pinned on Jason's suit, their attitudes shifted immediately. Even those who normally carried themselves with pride and arrogance became humble in front of him.
VIP.
It was the highest tier in the entire club—so rare that many members could go their whole lives without meeting one in person.
Megan, dressed in a long black evening gown, looked radiant as she held Jason's arm. The envious stares of countless women fell on her, and she basked in the feeling of superiority that came with standing beside him.
Not far away, a young man with a V1 badge noticed Megan. His eyes lit up at her beauty, and he strode over confidently. At first, he didn't take Jason too seriously. In his mind, it was possible to negotiate, perhaps even "trade" women—after all, members of the same club always had something to talk about.
"Hey, friend—" the man began casually, but the moment he got close enough to see Jason's badge clearly, his face drained of color.
VIP.
His heart skipped a beat. Who was he to even think of approaching such a person, let alone suggest such outrageous ideas? With a stiff smile, he immediately diverted his path and walked toward another guest behind Jason instead.
"Hey, buddy, long time no see," he said quickly, pretending as if that had been his goal all along.
The young man he approached blinked in confusion. "Uh… do I even know you?"
Meanwhile, Jason naturally became the center of attention at the gathering. Guests kept approaching him, eager to shake hands, exchange cards, and establish connections.
For most members, joining the club wasn't about parties—it was about building networks. And to connect with a VIP was the ultimate dream.
Unfortunately, Jason only responded with polite nods and short replies, making it clear that getting closer to him wouldn't be so simple.
Across the hall, a fashionable middle-aged woman tugged at her companion's sleeve."Mike," she whispered urgently, "who is that Jason fellow? Everyone's tripping over themselves to meet him."
Mike frowned. "Don't forget the club rules. Low-tier members asking about senior members is taboo. If you're really curious, go talk to him yourself."
The woman pursed her lips, unwilling to take the risk. The bald man beside them sighed."Even just seeing a VIP tonight makes this trip worth it. You can count them on one hand, and now we're standing in the same room."
"And look at him," the woman added, her eyes shining. "So young, so composed… definitely from a powerful family."
The bald man nodded regretfully. "But he's impossible to approach. Polite smiles are all we'll get."
The woman's gaze shifted to Megan beside Jason. She studied her carefully."That girl… she's stunning, yes, but she doesn't have the polished air of the socialites we usually see here. Definitely not from one of the old families."
"Which means," the woman continued with a sly smile, "she might be the key. You can't investigate a VIP, but looking into his woman? That should be fine."
The bald man hesitated. "Still dangerous. Anyone tied to him carries risk."
But temptation gnawed at him. In the end, he discreetly lifted his phone and snapped a photo of Megan from across the room.
In today's America, finding information on an ordinary person was ridiculously easy.
You open a bank account, and the next day realtors and brokers start calling. Buy a house, and suddenly every home improvement company in town has your number. Even a basic online registration could leak your entire profile.
Checking on a woman like Megan? It wouldn't take long.
To put it bluntly, in this country your basic information might be worth only a couple of dollars—ten at most—and someone would happily sell it for that price.
For the rich, however, spending a little extra money makes digging up personal details ridiculously easy. It didn't take long before Megan's information was passed right into their hands.
When the fashionable middle-aged woman and her bald companion looked over the report, both froze in surprise.
"I knew she wasn't from an old-money family," the woman murmured, brows lifting. "But I didn't expect her background to be this plain. Practically middle-class, almost tipping into poverty. So how does she carry herself with such elegance?"
The bald man's eyes lit up. "That makes her much easier to approach. If her family has problems, we can fix them effortlessly. She'll be grateful."
The woman gave a thin smile. "Exactly. You stay put later—don't hover. Women are less guarded when another woman approaches."
The bald man nodded. "But remember to be polite. After all, she's still the woman standing next to a VIP."
A little later, when Jason excused himself to the restroom, the fashionable middle-aged woman seized her chance. She swept up to Megan, her voice dripping with admiration.
"Sweetheart, I just have to ask—what do you use for your skin? It's absolutely flawless. I've spent thousands on top-shelf products, and nothing even comes close to yours."
Megan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden flattery. But before she could reply, several other women drifted over, surrounding her.
"Yes, exactly, your skin is like a baby's!"
"What brand do you use? I'd love to try it."
"No, no, this isn't products—it's natural beauty. Look at her glow!"
The fashionable woman frowned slightly. These other women were clearly thinking the same thing she was.
Megan looked around at the small circle forming around her—wealthy, glamorous women in designer gowns, each with expensive badges pinned to their dresses. A few even carried V2 badges, meaning they had deposited over 2 million dollars just to enter the club.
These were women who, under normal circumstances, would have ignored her entirely. Yet now, they spoke to her as if she were someone to be courted.
A rush of delight filled Megan's chest. This… this was the feeling she had dreamed of for years—like a bird that had finally flown to the highest branch, like a common girl who had transformed into a phoenix.
Because in truth, her family background was nothing special.
Her mother worked as a nurse, drawing a modest paycheck.Her father was a talented programmer but hopelessly naïve, constantly pushed around in his company and never knowing how to fight back.
Growing up, Megan watched her father being sidelined and bullied, and it left her with a lingering sense of shame. She often envied the glittering lives of her classmates, their parents driving expensive cars, their mothers shopping in boutiques.
By junior high, she made herself a promise: she would climb the ladder of class, no matter what it took.
Later, as she matured into a striking beauty, she realized she couldn't rely on her own career alone. So she turned her sights to another path: marrying into wealth.
In college, she began refining herself—taking etiquette classes, studying how to speak with grace, practicing posture until it became second nature.
When other girls accepted random gifts from admirers, she refused. A woman who seemed too easy, she reasoned, would never win the heart of a man with true status. She carefully guarded her reputation, presenting herself as both pure and untouchable.
Three or four years passed. Many promising young men pursued her, but none fully matched her dream of a wealthy, powerful partner.
Until now.
Jason checked every box in her fantasy. The only thing missing was his lack of obsession with her. He still seemed frustratingly calm, almost detached.
But Megan was patient. She believed she could win him over completely.
Megan: Favorability +1.
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