A morning that should have been filled with meetings and business reports was instead interrupted by Slater's leisurely walk to Ramos' club—his favorite escape from the humdrum reality of marriage. The club was still quiet, the lights dimmed lazily on, and the scent of alcohol and cigar smoke filled the air. Ramos, the club's owner and longtime friend, immediately glanced at him in surprise when he saw Slater lounging on the VIP couch, dressed in a neat suit but with a loose tie and an expensive cigar in hand.
"What's wrong with you? You're sitting here so early in the morning instead of going to the office? Did something happen?" Ramos asked, squeezing in beside her and picking up the whiskey bottle.
Slater exhaled slowly from his cigar. "I'm in a good mood right now," he said in a cool but meaningful tone.
Ramos raised an eyebrow. "So what? Did Seveline give you a free pass? Or did you get a leadership position at your father's company? Which one makes you happy?"
Slater snickered, as if bored with Ramos's wildly off-base guesses. He flicked the ashes from his cigar into the ashtray, then stared blankly ahead. "That arrogant woman is too arrogant. She always thinks I'm just a bystander. As if I have to bow down because I married her. But I'm only sure of one thing—she'll never fall in love with me. And that's all I need. She's too busy taking care of her face and body to realize that her rotten mouth is the most disgusting."
Ramos just kept quiet, nodding as if he understood.
Slater glanced sharply at him. "I need your help with something."
Ramos leaned back casually. "What is it?"
Slater put down his cigar, poured some whiskey into his glass, and then said calmly, "Maybe after I've managed to sit down as the head of the company, I'll need you as my secretary. Leave the club's affairs to your men. I need people I trust around me."
Before Ramos could answer, one of his officers came rushing, whispering something in his ear.
"Sir, the old man came again... with his daughter. I think he wants... to sell the girl," whispered the employee with a face full of pity.
Ramos sighed heavily and stood up, his face upset. But before he could move, the man approached, dragging a teenage girl still in her school uniform.
"Sir! I'll sell my daughter to you. Whatever the price, as long as I get the money now!" the man said hopefully, his eyes red and his voice drunk.
The girl stood stiffly, looking down in fear, her fingers gripping tightly at the folds of her skirt, her face pale.
Ramos held back his emotions. "How many times have I told you, I'm not a pimp! I don't buy anyone! This is a liquor store, not a human auction! Protect your daughter, don't sell her!"
But the man became more and more determined. "How much money do you want?"
At that moment, all eyes turned to Slater, who sat quietly. Slater took another sip of his whiskey, then looked straight at the girl—eyes full of burden and deep hurt.
"How much money do you need?" Slater asked coldly.
The girl immediately shook her head in panic, tears hanging from her eyes.
"500 million!" the man exclaimed, kneeling at Slater's feet, as if he had found his savior.
Slater nodded slowly.
Suddenly, silence fell over the room. The girl looked increasingly panicked, her body trembling, holding back tears that threatened to break out.
And Ramos just stood there, staring at Slater who—for reasons unknown—had just bought a fate he might not be able to redeem.
Slater stared at the man coldly. His eyes were sharp but flat, devoid of any emotion. He took another drag on his cigar and then asked in a low but sharp voice, "Is he clean?"
The man nodded firmly. "Very clean, obedient, doesn't know men, and is smart. A high-achieving girl. You won't be disappointed."
Ramos leaned in, whispering worriedly, "Slater, think again. She's still in school. You're married. Don't act rashly."
Slater didn't answer. He simply took out a check, wrote the amount, and then held it out to the man. But just as the man was about to grab it, Slater pulled it back.
"You already gave it to me. Don't ever show up again. If you dare to tease him, I'll cut off your hands and feet myself. Understood?"
The man nodded frantically. Slater dropped the check to the floor and took a quiet drag on his cigar.
As the man was about to leave, his daughter tugged at his sleeve, her voice trembling. "Dad, why sell me? I could work for you. Why does it have to be like this?"
Roughly, the man pushed his daughter until she fell and her head hit the edge of the table.
Slater immediately put out his cigar and ordered, "Give him one hit."
Without thinking, Ramos knocked the man to the ground. He picked up the fallen check and tore it up, replacing it with a new one—400 million.
"Why reduce it?" asked the man in panic.
Slater pointed at the girl, his hand still clutching the cigar. "You scratched my thing."
The man left hurriedly, while the girl just cried softly on the floor. Slater got up and said firmly, "Get up!"
The girl stood, looking down in fear.
"What's your name?" asked Slater.
"Argista, sir," he answered softly.
Suddenly Argista fell to his knees, pleading with a trembling voice, "I beg you, sir, don't do anything to me... I will do all your orders, as long as you don't..."
Slater stared at him for a long moment, then grinned slightly.
"Don't what? Don't sleep with you? I'm married. Who said I bought you for my own pleasure?"
Ramos and Argista stared at him in complete shock.
Slater took the car keys from the table, walking casually out of the club.
"Become a domestic helper in my mansion," he said flatly, then disappeared behind the door.