C41 Massage Room

Westley scrutinized the security guards and noticed something off about them. Their alert stances, shoulders slightly dipped, and knees bent suggested to him that they were likely ex-military.

The Golden Palace had spared no expense, employing seasoned veterans for their security detail. Westley's curiosity was piqued.

"Fine, I'll come along," Westley said, raising his hand in agreement.

"Had you been this cooperative from the start, we could have avoided all this trouble," Marlon snorted with a hint of scorn.

He thought to himself that the kid wasn't nearly as brash as Ethan had made him out to be.

Surrounded and unresisting, Westley was the picture of compliance as he was led back to the Golden Palace. Inside, he inhaled deeply, the air rich with a scent that to him, smelled like money.

By now, Ethan and his group had finished up and were exiting the private room.

"I've got him," Marlon announced, a smug look on his face.

Ethan couldn't bring himself to meet Westley's gaze, while Mr. Haris and the others wore mixed expressions.

"Marlon, this guy's more complicated than he seems. Be careful," Mr. Haris warned in a hushed tone.

"You're all just spooked," Marlon retorted with a smirk. "Look at him, all meek and mild now."

"In the Golden Palace, you could be a dragon, but you'll coil up just the same. A tiger, but you'll have to crouch," Marlon boasted.

Mr. Haris was visibly irked by Marlon's arrogance but bit back any confrontation.

With clenched teeth, he said coldly, "We're leaving."

"Mr. Haris, where are we headed?" Ethan asked tentatively.

"We're going to find someone. Today, I'm going to make sure this kid doesn't walk out of here," Mr. Haris declared with venom.

With that, they stormed off, frustration in their steps.

"Cousin, I'm leaving this in your hands," Ethan said to Marlon, casting a wary glance at Westley.

With those parting words, he hurried away.

"What a bunch of losers," Marlon muttered disdainfully, his lip curling in contempt.

Despite being a mere security guard, he held Brother Lang and his cronies in utter contempt.

To him, working as a security guard at the Golden Palace was not only a job with great prospects but also one of high prestige.

In his eyes, a low-level thug like Brother Lang was insignificant compared to the influence of Charlotte, the power behind the Golden Palace.

He turned sharply and fixed Westley with a piercing glare, barking, "Follow me!"

"Where to?" Westley inquired.

"To the upscale massage room, of course. I'll get you there, work out those kinks, and help you unwind," Marlon sneered.

"A massage room, too? Great, let's hurry over," Westley said, clearly eager.

Marlon directed his men to escort Westley to the Golden Palace's dimly lit holding cell.

……

Two girls descended from the third floor.

One was Aimee.

She conversed with a girl in a purple evening gown beside her.

The girl was petite and a bit on the plump side, with full lips and small eyes.

Her looks might be called plain, but she was decked out in designer wear from head to toe.

She sported an enormous diamond necklace and carried a Hermes bag from this spring's collection, priced over a hundred thousand yuan and not yet available in China.

Her name was Edith, the treasured daughter of the Cruz family in Lindzac.

The Cruz family ranked about fourth in strength in Lindzac, having soared in recent years thanks to the real estate boom.

Despite their wealth, they lacked any cultural sophistication.

"Aimee, did you hear? My dad went to Europe for business and just had to buy me this diamond necklace. We already have several at home; I didn't even want it, but he insisted," Edith lamented, her fingers casually brushing her necklace, its diamond catching the light and dazzling onlookers.

Aimee was at a loss for words.

She was, after all, a heiress, and her every gesture exuded the air of affluence.

Aimee Ye, despite hailing from a wealthy background, dressed so simply that her attire could only be described as plain. She was clad in a beige sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. Yet, her beauty was her greatest asset, allowing her to exude a youthful vibrancy even in the most basic of outfits.

"Yes, your dad really treats you well," Aimee responded half-heartedly.

"Of course, he's the best dad in the world," Edith Cruz pouted, her thick lips protruding in a manner that was, frankly, rather unsightly—reminiscent of a pig eager for a meal.

Unable to bear the sight, Aimee turned her attention to the scene unfolding below. What she saw left her frozen in shock. In the lobby, a man was being encircled by several security guards, seemingly about to be escorted somewhere.

He wasn't tall and had the look of a street tough, his attire shabby and out of place amidst the opulence of the Golden Palace. It was Westley.

"Why is Westley here?" Aimee's eyes widened in disbelief. The Golden Palace was exclusive, off-limits to the general public. Had he somehow slipped past security?

"Aimee, what's caught your eye?" Edith followed her gaze and asked with curiosity, "Do you know that man?"

"I don't know him," Aimee denied, shaking her head.

"How odd. He looks so destitute. How did the Golden Palace let someone like that slip in?" Edith's voice carried a hint of indignation. How could someone of her esteemed status be in the same space as such a lowly individual?

"I have no idea," Aimee replied, feeling a twinge of guilt. She certainly couldn't confess that the shady-looking man downstairs was, in name at least, her brother-in-law.

"If he's an acquaintance of yours, I could have a word with Charlotte and have him released," Edith offered, giving Aimee a meaningful look.

"How could I possibly know him?" Aimee quickly dismissed the notion.

"Right, you're the Rogers family's eldest daughter; you wouldn't associate with someone so beneath you. I bet he tried to sneak in and got caught. In the hands of those security guards, he's in for a rough time," Edith mused, her lips twisting into a smirk that betrayed not a shred of empathy.

After all, she prided herself on being from a top-tier wealthy family, and her contempt for the poor was a well-known fact.

Edith Cruz urged, "Let's get going then. There's going to be quite the spectacle tonight, and opportunities like this don't come around every day."

"Agreed." Aimee Rogers nodded in response.

Before departing, she couldn't resist one last glance downstairs, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight.

Westley, you're going to need all the luck you can get!

……

Westley trailed behind Marlon, making his way to a corridor at the staircase's turn.

The interior here was a stark contrast to the opulent facade outside.

He had barely stepped inside when a bone-chilling draft hit him, prompting an involuntary shudder.

Marlon and his crew, guiding Westley along, exchanged knowing looks.

Westley halted abruptly, turning with a puzzled expression. "What kind of place is this? It's freezing!"

"We're almost there; the massage room is just ahead," Marlon replied with an icy sneer.

"Is that so?" Westley inquired.

"Absolutely!"

Patronizingly, Marlon assured him, "Inside, several people will give you a massage. You're going to feel amazing!"

"Well, that's reassuring." Westley nodded, feigning naivety.

Internally, he scoffed.

Who's going to be on the receiving end of a massage? That remains to be seen!