Chapter 113: Backing Up Old Friends

Seeing her glance nervously at the song screen, Jude gave her a light nudge with a smile. "You’re the real singer here. Don’t let the delivery guys hog all the mics."

Luna blushed and nodded shyly. She walked up, scrolled through the songs, and picked an acoustic ballad.

The second her clear, beautiful voice hit the speakers, the whole room went dead silent...

The noisy lounge suddenly sounded like an expensive private concert.

Warren clapped as she finished, turning to Jude with a proud grin. "What did I tell you, Jude? Pure raw talent! She just needs the right spotlight."

"She’s got the basics down," Jude agreed. "Tell the dance teachers not to overcomplicate her stage moves. Let her voice do the heavy lifting."

Warren smiled and was about to answer, but loud shouts from the hallway cut him off.

Both men turned toward the door, realizing someone was causing trouble right outside.

Hearing a commotion outside, Jude pushed open the suite door and walked up behind Warren, finding a red-faced drunk trying to push past him into the room.

"She told you to back off," Jude said, his voice flat as he stepped into the corridor. "Get out of the hallway."

The drunk swayed on his feet, squinting as his bloodshot eyes shifted from Warren to Jude.

When he saw the blue delivery vest Jude was wearing, his face twisted in disgust.

"A couple of broke delivery boys trying to play tough guys?" the drunk slurred, stepping forward and grabbing for Jude’s collar.

"Do you have any clue who you’re talking to?! Get the hell out of my way before I—"

Stepping inside his reach, Jude grabbed his wrist like an iron clamp, twisting it backward with force.

The drunk choked out a scream as his legs gave out. The twist forced him straight down onto his knees on the carpet, slamming his head against the wall.

"AGHH! My arm... let go!" the man screamed in pain, all his alcohol courage vanishing as his wrist bone nearly snapped.

"Keep your hands to yourself," Jude said quietly, letting go of him with a push.

The man scrambled backward on all fours like a crab, clutching his swollen wrist to his chest.

His face turned bright purple with fury as he shrieked down the hall, "Security! Somebody help! I’m getting jumped by delivery rats!"

Within seconds, the double doors of Suite 306 slammed open.

Six men in expensive suits stepped out, holding glasses of scotch, followed by two big club bouncers.

At the front was a tall, flashy guy in his late twenties with a gleaming luxury watch... clearly a spoiled rich kid living on daddy’s money.

"What’s all the screaming out here, President Qian?" the young man asked, looking down at the drunk on the floor with annoyance.

"Young Master Chen!" President Qian whimpered, scrambling up and pointing a shaking finger at Jude and Warren. "I came out to make a phone call, and these two low-life couriers tried to mug me! That bastard nearly broke my arm in half!"

The young man, Julian Chen, heir to the Chen Logistics Group turned his eyes toward Jude.

Seeing the courier vest, he sneered.

"A couple of box-haulers starting fights outside my suite?" Julian scoffed, waving to the bouncers. "Drag them out back into the alley and break their legs. Ginza Lounge doesn’t need trash like this ruining our night."

"Hold it right there!"

A furious female voice sliced through the hall. Everyone froze and turned toward the elevators.

Walking down the hall in a stunning red evening dress, flanked by two friends, was Chloe Liu.

Her eyes locked onto Julian Chen with disgust.

"Julian Chen, since when do the Chens get to break people’s legs in public?" Chloe said, her heels clicking on the floor as she stopped right next to Jude.

The second Julian saw Chloe Liu, the smirk on his face melted away.

"Chloe?" Julian stammered. "What... what are you doing here?"

As the heir to a mid-level trucking company, Julian spent his whole life begging to get into Manhattan’s true billionaire circles.

And sitting at the absolute top of that elite world was the Liu family of Sutton Place... led by the legendary old patriarch, Harrison Liu.

"I’m here for dinner with friends," Chloe said. "And more importantly, you’re threatening my family’s most honored guest."

"Honored... guest?" Julian’s jaw dropped. He looked back and forth between Chloe’s designer dress and Jude’s twenty-dollar courier vest, his brain totally short-circuiting.

"Chloe, you’ve got to be mistaken. This guy is literally a package delivery driver—"

"Shut your mouth," Chloe cut him off. "Mr. Lawson personally saved my grandfather’s life yesterday on Fifth Avenue. You dare call him a low-life?!"

The whole hallway went silent. President Qian’s jaw dropped so hard he almost choked on his own spit.

Julian Chen froze stiff, all the blood draining from his face until he looked like a ghost.

He saved Harrison Liu’s life?!

Everyone in the city knew old man Liu could wipe out a company’s permits and shut them down with a single phone call.

Messing with the guy who saved the old man was suicide...

Turning slowly, Julian Chen glared at the terrified President Qian like he wanted to murder him.

"You blind, drunken idiot!" Julian spat through his teeth, winding up and slapping Qian across the face with everything he had!

The slap echoed down the hall, spinning Qian around until he slammed into the wall.

"Apologize to Mr. Lawson right now!" Julian roared, shaking with panic. "Before I bankrupt your whole company by tomorrow morning!"

Leaving the sniveling President Qian and a sweating Julian Chen bowing in the hallway, Chloe stepped into Suite 308 with Jude to escape the scene.

Seeing her relaxed amusement, Jude could only shake his head with a faint smile and let her stay.

Watching the two of them whisper together so familiarly only made Luna’s curiosity grow deeper.

Forty seconds later, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Before Jude could even set his glass down, the door of Suite 308 swung open again.

President Qian stumbled back across the threshold, not bowing in apology this time, but dragging another figure behind him.

This one wasn’t a twenty-something heir; he was an older, bull-necked man in an unbuttoned velvet blazer... Qian’s business partner and Kyle Zhu’s maternal uncle, President Fang.

Blood trickled from Fang’s split lip, fresh from some drunken scuffle of his own around the corner.

"Right here, Kyle! This is where those bastards ducked into!" Qian rasped out, his courage suddenly resurrected by the small army of private security crowding the hallway behind them.

Pushing past the trembling pair came Kyle Zhu himself...

Dressed in tailored leather with an unlit cigar pinched between his teeth, Kyle didn’t bother asking for context.

To him, the third floor was Zhu property already.

Seeing his uncle bruised and Qian’s wrist bent at an unnatural angle was all the excuse he needed to make a statement.

Striding straight into Suite 308, Kyle kicked the door shut behind his men, hauled a chair around, and dropped into it.

He planted his boots dead-center on the coffee table, glaring right at Jude.

"I don’t give a damn who gave you permission to play hero in my corridor," Kyle sneered, resting his forearms on his knees. "Nobody lays a hand on the Zhu family’s guests and walks out of Midtown in one piece. Uncle Fang, sit tight. Uncle Zhou is on the floor... I called him down personally to clean out this trash."

Warren stood up, ready to grab a bottle off the ice bucket, but Jude placed a hand on his forearm, signaling him to hold his ground.

Outside, the hallway fell abruptly silent...

Private security guards parted instantly, clearing a path for a man rushing through like his world had just fallen apart.

The instant Kyle Zhu saw Terrence Zhou step across the threshold of Suite 308, he uncrossed his boots from the table and rose with a smug grin.

"Uncle Zhou, you made it! Look at my uncle’s cheek... these nobodies laid hands on our family right in your corridor—"

Terrence Zhou didn’t even spare Kyle a sidelong glance.