C56 Supreme Black Card

The sound of swallowing filled the air.

Charlotte's beauty was unmistakable.

For these thugs, accustomed to seeing surgically enhanced beauties on live streams and other platforms, encountering a woman of Charlotte's caliber was bound to elicit such a reaction.

Mr. Haris and his crew were on edge.

After all, this was Charlotte, Derrick's confidante.

And who didn't know Derrick in Lindzac?

Mr. Haris and his group might look tough.

But compared to Derrick in his prime, they were inconsequential.

A tall figure shadowed Charlotte.

That was Rashawn.

Mr. Haris and the others were well aware that Rashawn was Charlotte's right-hand man, a formidable force in his own right.

Anyone who dared to stir up trouble at the Golden Palace would face Rashawn's wrath.

With this in mind, Mr. Haris and his group straightened up, suddenly as disciplined as schoolchildren.

Without uttering a word, Charlotte's commanding presence had already taken hold of the room.

Mr. Haris managed a strained smile and bowed respectfully, "Boss Powell, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Charlotte offered a slight smile in return.

Yet, Mr. Haris and his associates couldn't muster even a twitch of amusement.

It was clear to everyone; Charlotte's words carried a deeper message.

She casually took out a slim cigarette and held it poised between her fingers.

Rashawn was quick to light it for her.

As the smoke curled from Charlotte's red lips, it carried an ineffable allure and sensuality.

"You're Desmond, aren't you?" Charlotte inquired.

Westley was taken aback. Who was Desmond?

Mr. Haris hastily offered a sheepish grin, "I'm surprised someone of your stature would even recognize a minor player like me."

Indeed, he was Desmond.

Feeling his name lacked impact, he'd adopted the moniker Mr. Haris for public persona.

"Do you realize the audacity of your actions? Are you trying to blockade the Golden Palace and disrupt our business?" Charlotte's smile vanished as she spoke with deliberate emphasis.

Mr. Haris felt a shiver run down his spine, a weighty, unexplained pressure that kept him from lifting his head.

"No, Boss Powell, you've got it all wrong. My visit isn't about any beef with the Golden Palace, but rather to settle a personal score," Mr. Haris said, his forehead beading with sweat from anxiety.

"Oh?" Charlotte's eyes twinkled with curiosity.

"It's this guy right here!"

Mr. Haris pointed at Westley and continued, "He got under my skin, made a fool out of us, and now we're here to get even."

Westley just shrugged and offered a wry smile in response.

"I see," Charlotte said, nodding in understanding.

Mr. Haris's spirits lifted, sensing the misunderstanding was clearing up.

"Could you do me a favor and let this slide?" Charlotte inquired.

"What?" Mr. Haris was taken aback, wondering if he'd heard her correctly.

Why was Charlotte stepping in for Westley?

What was their connection?

"I was speaking to Mr. Jimenez," Charlotte clarified with a calm tone.

Hearing this, Mr. Haris was so infuriated he felt like he could spit blood.

Why was Boss Powell asking Westley to back off?

What was the angle here?

"Oh? Could you give me a reason?" Westley asked, a playful smile on his face.

"I'd rather avoid a bloodbath here, you understand. We're in business for peace and prosperity, aren't we?" Charlotte said, batting her eyelashes.

Her gentle voice, along with her flirtatious gestures, was enough to make any man's heart melt.

Westley was no exception; he was inwardly moved, though he couldn't help but think of her as a femme fatale.

Still, he replied, "Boss Powell, I have a rule: I don't do favors that don't benefit me."

The room fell silent at his audacity.

Was Westley really that daring?

To actually demand a favor from the esteemed owner of the Golden Palace?

Did he have no fear of ending up in the Lindzac River as fish food?

"And what favor might you be seeking?" Charlotte asked with a light laugh.

"That, I'll leave to your discretion," Westley said, giving Charlotte a suggestive glance.

His gaze was unashamedly lecherous.

Every man there knew exactly what he meant.

The other men in the room were seething with indignation, their blood boiling with the urge to strike Westley down then and there.

But Charlotte, far from taking offense, stepped even closer to Westley.

She locked eyes with Westley and teased, "Aren't you afraid I'll devour you? They all call me a man-eating fox spirit."

Her voice was soft, laced with temptation.

"Who ends up eating whom is still up in the air," Westley replied, undaunted.

In moments like these, a man can't show fear.

"Is that so? You think you can handle me?" Charlotte stepped closer, now mere inches away.

Westley could feel the heat radiating from Charlotte's body, the enticing scent of her perfume, and the distinct curves of her silhouette.

Mr. Haris and the others wore expressions that were hard to read.

They seemed to be shamelessly flirting in broad daylight.

"Sure, why not? I've tried all sorts of things, but never a tease like you. I'm curious," Westley said with a sly grin.

After all, it's only polite to return the gesture.

Not wanting to be disrespectful, Westley leaned in.

His move was bold, to say the least.

To his surprise, Charlotte anticipated his advance, leaning back just enough to dodge him with finesse.

Then, with a cool snap of her fingers, she commanded, "Rashawn, bring it over."

Rashawn promptly approached, presenting an item with both hands.

Charlotte passed it to Westley.

He took it and found himself holding a card.

It was an unusual, dark card, ink-black with a hint of metallic sheen.

"What's this?" Westley blinked in astonishment.

"This is the Supreme Black Card from our Golden Palace. In all of Lindzac, including you, only three people possess this card," Charlotte explained earnestly.

"Supreme Black Card? Sounds impressive," Westley mused, scratching his head.

Truth be told, he wasn't all that interested.

Yet, the sight of the Supreme Black Card caused Mr. Haris and the rest to visibly react.

This was no ordinary card; it was the Golden Palace's Supreme Black Card!

Owning such a card signified not just the amount of money one had spent at the Golden Palace but also their elevated status and close friendship with Boss Powell, the man behind the Golden Palace.

Possessing this card meant having a formidable ally on your side.

Rumor has it that a rich merchant once bid a whopping 100 million to purchase the Supreme Black Card from Boss Powell, only to be flatly turned down.

No one could have predicted that Boss Powell would publicly present the card to Westley.

Just who is Westley, and what's his story?