Although Wallis Shelley had already rejected one man, others weren't so easily deterred. In fact, more men began to set their sights on her. With her exquisite features, full lips, flawless figure, and naturally seductive aura, she was impossible to ignore. It was only a matter of time before another suitor tried his luck.
A tall man—about 1.9 meters—strode over and casually took the seat beside her without a word.
"Sorry, this seat's taken," Wallis said sharply, giving the man a quick glance.
"I know—it's me, right?" The burly man chuckled, flashing several gold teeth as he tugged out a thick gold chain from under his shirt. "Come on, beautiful. You're all alone. Why don't you come with me?"
Showing off wealth? If Jiang Hai were here, he would've smacked this guy. Clearly, the man didn't know he was facing a proud member of the Anti-Rich Alliance.
Wallis simply sneered.
The man's face darkened. He reached out to pull her close—but Wallis Shelley was far from defenseless.
With a swift flick of her wrist, she caught his ring finger and twisted it hard.
A guttural scream escaped the man's throat.
The ring finger was the weakest of all—least flexible, least resilient—and as a trained agent, Wallis Shelley knew exactly how to exploit her opponent's vulnerabilities.
"I told you—someone's already here. Get lost!" she snapped, slamming her stiletto heel down on the man's foot.
The sharp pain radiated through his bones. He dropped to the floor clutching his hand and foot, crying out in agony.
The two men who had come with him rushed over.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, bitch?" one of them shouted. The other knelt beside the wounded man, checking on him.
Wallis didn't flinch.
"Oh? You two want to try out my special services too?" she said with a mocking grin.
"You... You're vicious!" one of the men stammered, shrinking back slightly. Despite their numbers, they weren't drunk enough yet to escalate things—especially after seeing how effortlessly she had handled their friend.
After exchanging uncertain glances, they helped the injured man to his feet and quickly left.
As they disappeared, the nearby crowd erupted into a mixture of cheers and whistles. Wallis Shelley calmly returned to her Bloody Mary, taking a slow sip as her gaze shifted subtly to the second-floor VIP lounge.
She had caught someone's attention.
Those three men might've been fools, but at least they'd served one purpose—no one else dared approach her too easily now.
After fending off a few more overly confident men, the area around her finally quieted.
"Miss, mind if I sit here?" a voice broke the silence again—confident, smooth.
Wallis glanced at the newcomer out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze briefly flickered with interest, but her tone remained aloof.
"Sorry. This seat's taken."
But the man didn't back off.
Instead, he smiled and sat down.
"I can see you've got high standards. I doubt anyone here meets them. But if you're just looking to have fun tonight, I might be exactly what you need."
He didn't sound cocky. He wasn't aggressive. He spoke plainly—like he was stating a fact.
Wallis turned her head fully now, examining him more carefully.
"Confident, aren't you?"
"You haven't seen me at my most confident yet." He chuckled, his eyes gleaming.
Wallis smirked, intrigued now.
"Fair enough. I am here for fun, but not just any man is my type." She turned toward the bartender. "Give me twenty tequilas."
She reached into her bag for cash—but the man across from her beat her to it, handing a crisp Franklin to the bartender.
"I've got it."
The bartender, eager to serve, set up twenty shot glasses in a neat line. On each glass, a coin was placed, topped with a mound of salt. It was a popular drinking challenge—**"lick-sip-smash"—**more common with vodka or tequila.
For most, tequila was too strong. But Wallis Shelley, who had grown up downing Russian vodka like water, found it pleasantly mild.
The two began the challenge. One by one, they knocked back shot after shot, licking salt, clinking glasses, downing them in perfect rhythm.
Nine down—one to go.
But as Wallis reached for her tenth, the man beat her to it, grabbing both her glass and his, downing them with a grin.
Wallis cursed under her breath, but a smile still curled at the corners of her lips.
He had some nerve, she had to admit.
Setting the glasses down, the man leaned forward.
"Now, beautiful lady, may I have this dance?" he asked, bowing slightly in a mock-gentlemanly gesture.
Wallis leapt from her seat with a grin and headed toward the dance floor. Behind her, the man followed—flashing a cheeky, victorious hand sign toward the second-floor lounge. A few of the men watching him simply shook their heads and raised their glasses.
Wallis danced, eyes alternating between her partner and the people in the private lounge above.
Surprisingly, the man didn't try to grope her. He danced with charm, style, and just enough distance to suggest respect rather than desperation.
Of course, even if he had tried anything, Wallis would have slipped away in an instant.
Eventually, the men in the lounge began to leave, each with a woman in his arms.
Wallis turned toward her dance partner and leaned in close.
"I need the ladies' room," she whispered, giving him a sultry wink. "You staying here, or... coming with me?"
He didn't hesitate.
They made their way to the restroom. As they entered the women's side, the man eagerly reached for her, but Wallis shoved him back.
"Not here," she said, pointing to a nearby stall.
Inside, a couple was already engaged in... obvious activity.
"I don't like being watched. Let's head to the back alley." She spoke calmly, as if this was routine.
"Anything you say." The man was completely under her spell now. Frankly, if she'd asked him to wear his underwear as a hat, he probably would've.
Following her lead, they exited through the back. The alley behind the club was quiet—perfectly secluded.
The moment the man lunged for her again, Wallis's eyes narrowed.
In one fluid motion, she spun on her heel, dodged his grab, and struck the back of his neck with the edge of her palm.
The man dropped like a sack of bricks.
A black Tesla slid silently into the alley.
Galina's team stepped out, loaded the unconscious man into the car, and disappeared into the night.
Wallis picked up her small bag, fixed her hair, and strolled back into the club.
After sitting at the bar for a few minutes to avoid suspicion, she made her exit.
The valet outside sighed in disappointment. He had hoped for a lucky break tonight—but clearly, this woman was far beyond his league.
He watched as she slipped into her Tesla sports car and drove away. Within moments, the crowd had already forgotten her.
After all, a beautiful woman—if you didn't get anything—was just a story to brag about. Take it too seriously, and you'd just be bitter.
Wallis headed for the highway interchange between Boston and Winthrop, parking quietly by the roadside.
Meanwhile, Galina and the others arrived at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The road they took was winding and secluded. No civilians. No cameras. Just shadows and silence.
Inside, they chained the man by the wrists and hoisted him until his feet barely touched the ground.
He woke up groggy, only to see four figures standing before him.
"What are you doing?! Let me go! I work for the Colorite Company! You—"
"That's exactly why you're here," Galina stepped forward, smiling coldly. "Don't you recognize me?"
The man squinted. She looked familiar. Where had he seen her?
"A hint—today, at the casino. Jiang Hai," she added with a wicked grin.
"You're one of Jiang Hai's bodyguards? You can't just kidnap people! That's illegal!" His confidence surged now that he remembered who she was.
"Idiot. Riak, Valentina—shut him up."
Without hesitation, her teammates tied bricks to ropes and hung them from the man's ankles.
The sharp pull of gravity ripped a scream from his throat.
"Now we're going to talk," Galina said with a cold gleam in her eyes. "You hesitate—you get a pound. You lie—you get ten."
The man broke immediately.
"Name... Position..." Galina demanded.
"Yofanai Fadrik! Vice President of External Affairs at Carlette!"
She nodded. That matched what she already knew. Now it was time for the real questions.
"Who were the three men in charge today?"
"Uh..." he hesitated.
More bricks were added.
The strain made him gasp.
"Okay! Our young master—Roslin Carlette, a white guy named Mayan Smith, and a Japanese guy named Akita Shinkichi!"
Galina smiled.
Cowards like these were easy to deal with. Greedy, lustful, fearful. She loved it.
And she had much more to learn.
Two hours later, a man was found dead in a Boston hotel room.
The police ruled it a suicide. His name: Yofanai Fadrik, an employee of the Carlette Company.
The case was still under investigation.
But while the officers milled about the scene, two cars silently rolled through the gates of Jiang Hai's manor—one after the other.