Chapter 67: Revoked Invite

"Taking a quick call with my team first," Mia replied. "I’ll be up in a minute."

Nadia pressed the elevator call button.

Before she pulled her hand away, the display showed the car already descending from the 90th floor. The doors slid open a moment later.

Jude Lawson stepped out. He wore a tailored navy tuxedo with silk lapels, his tie set straight, looking completely put together.

"Mr. Lawson," Nadia said, stepping back in surprise.

Jude looked at her. "Good evening, Nadia."

He walked right past Mia without looking her way, stopping in front of the young songwriter.

"Heading to an event, sir?" Nadia asked.

"A charity gala tonight," Jude replied. "Did Windward get your contract signed?"

"They did." Nadia held up the folder. "Kane went through the points with me. He kept all my master rights intact. I don’t know how to thank you."

"Your work met the standard," Jude said. "Lawson Capital doesn’t back bad investments. Finish the album, Nadia. The market will handle the rest."

"I will," she said, a smile breaking through. "Though your name is out-trending mine by 40 million views right now. People figured out you were the one singing in that conservatory clip."

Jude pulled out his phone, checked the trending headlines, and glanced over at Mia by her car.

"Right," Jude said, his tone dry. "Our resident streamer decided to put my afternoon on the internet."

Mia forced a smile, trying to turn the comment around. "Just doing my part for your PR, Mr. Lawson. That clip is trending everywhere. You’re welcome."

Nadia turned back to him. "If you’re hungry after your event, feel free to stop by my apartment, Mr. Lawson. I can make something, or we can look over the mix for the second song. Midnight, 2 AM, whenever you’re back."

Jude raised an eyebrow. "An open invite to your apartment at 2 AM? You aren’t worried about the rumors?"

Nadia laughed. "Why would I be? Mia told me this morning that you don’t have any interest in women anyway."

The elevator chimed, the doors beginning to slide shut.

"Goodnight, Mr. Lawson. Goodnight, Mia," Nadia called out as the doors closed, taking her up to the 24th floor.

The garage went quiet. Jude turned toward Mia, his eyes fixed on her.

Mia’s smile faded, and she pulled her hands out of her pockets, backing up against her car.

"Creative summary, Mia," Jude said. "Giving my tenants briefings on my personal life?"

"Mr. Lawson, it was just a joke," Mia stammered. "She was asking questions, and I was just talking. It didn’t mean anything."

Jude took a step toward her. "I don’t care what you call it," Jude said, putting his phone away. "I see that 72-hour suspension on your Nexus Live account didn’t teach you much."

Mia froze, the color draining from her face.

3 days ago, her primary channel on Nexus Live, the platform bringing in 80% of her income had been hit with a sudden suspension for policy violations. Support had ignored every ticket her agency submitted.

"How do you know about that?" Mia asked, her voice shaking.

"I approved the flag that triggered it," Jude said.

"You rent my floor space, stream on my servers, and make your living off my bandwidth,"

"Don’t test my patience again, Mia. If you keep spreading stories, that suspension won’t last 3 days. It will be permanent."

Mia stood frozen on the garage floor, the realization sinking in.

Her entire digital career didn’t rest on charisma or marketing; it existed because the man standing before her hadn’t bothered to shut off her access?

Jude didn’t look back. He walked to the Koenigsegg Jesko, the door gliding upward as he approached.

"Mr. Lawson, wait! Please, let me explain!" Mia hurried forward, her hands out as the car backed out of Bay 01. "It was a misunderstanding. I’ll post a retraction right now!"

She was talking to exhaust fumes. The tires caught the concrete, and the car accelerated up the ramp, clearing the gates and disappearing into the evening traffic.

Mia backed away, hands shaking. A permanent ban on Nexus Live would wipe out her income and take her management agency down with it!

15 minutes later, the front drive of the Sovereign Plaza Hotel on Central Park South was lit by floodlights and media flashbulbs.

The Annual Metropolitan Philanthropic Gala was the primary event on the city’s fall calendar. A red carpet ran from the limestone entrance down to the curb, flanked by 200 photographers and a crowd pressed against the barricades.

Beyond the charity branding, the event was an exercise in posturing. Hedge fund managers showed off new acquisitions, while old-money families traded polite barbs over who had donated more to the museum boards. The arrivals lane was just as competitive.

"Look at that... David Sterling arrived in a $3 million Bentley Mulliner," a commercial broker said, adjusting his jacket.

"Standard compared to Henderson’s Maybach," his guest replied, holding a glass of champagne. "Zurich brought in an Enzo Ferrari just to claim the front spot."

The conversation cut off as a sharp whine echoed down Central Park South.

Heads turned toward the street as the black Koenigsegg Jesko cut through the line of town cars.

With only 3 units built and a sticker price over $9 million, the low-slung hypercar made the sedans and sports cars in the driveway look ordinary.

Murmurs spread along the ropes as guests watched the car pull up to the main canopy. Inside, Jude tapped his hands-free system.

"Anna," Jude said, shifting into park. "Did the wardrobe make it to the room?"

"The suit was delivered to the Presidential Suite 10 minutes ago, sir," Anna answered immediately. "Staff pressed the jacket. The room is locked under your code."

"Understood. I’ll head up through the main hall."

The door swung upward. Jude stepped onto the pavement, pocketing the key as the door latched behind him.

The photographers looked on, slightly confused.

"Chauffeur," a photographer muttered near the riser. "Just shuttling the car for a client."

"Must be nice to test-drive a $9 million car," someone replied.

Several photographers lowered their cameras, waiting for the actual guests. Jude ignored them and walked toward the private elevator bank inside.

Near the entrance, an actress named Chloe Delacroix was posing for the cameras, holding up the arrival line.

Wearing a red silk gown with a 12-foot train, she took a sudden step backward to catch the light of a flash.

Her heel came within inches of Jude’s boots. Jude stepped around her, but the edge of his boot brushed the fabric trailing behind her, leaving a faint gray mark on the hem.

"Excuse me," Jude said.

Chloe spun around, her eyes taking in his sweater and boots before her face hardened.

"Are you blind?" she said, loud enough for the reporters to hear. "Look at what you did to my gown. That’s custom French silk. Do you have any idea what this costs?"

Jude stopped and looked down at her.

"You backed into the walkway," Jude said calmly. "If the dress is ruined, send the bill to Lawson Capital. We’ll pay double."

Chloe gave a sharp laugh, playing to the photographers.

"Lawson Capital? You’re a driver," she scoffed. "You think you can cover this? This dress is worth more than your yearly salary. You couldn’t afford the tax on it."

A few guests nearby chuckled, watching the scene.

Jude looked at her. "Unless that dress costs $3 billion, Miss Delacroix, your numbers are off."

The carpet went quiet. People looked between them, unsure what to make of the comment.

Chloe sneered. "Get on your knees and clean the mark off the hem, or I’ll have hotel security throw you out."

"Are you sure you want to go with that?" Jude asked.

"Right now," Chloe said.

Before she could say another word, the hotel’s doors opened.

Raymond Sterling, the general manager of the Sovereign Plaza, hurried down the steps, out of breath and adjusting his jacket.

Chloe smiled. "Finally. Raymond, have this driver escorted off the property—"

Raymond walked right past her.

He stopped in front of Jude and gave a deep bow, catching the entire crowd off guard.

"Mr. Lawson," Raymond said quickly. "My apologies for not meeting you at the curb. We didn’t realize your car had cleared the street barricades."

Jude didn’t break stride. "I have a suit waiting in the suite, Raymond. I’m heading up. Deal with this, cover the cost of her dress, and pull her badge."

"Right away, Mr. Lawson," Raymond said, staying bowed until Jude walked through the front doors.

Once the doors closed, Raymond straightened up and turned to Chloe, all politeness gone.

"Raymond, what is this?" Chloe asked, pale. "Who is that?"

"That man owns 30% of this hotel group, Miss Delacroix," Raymond said quietly. "Lawson Capital will wire the replacement cost for your dress. But your invite is revoked. Security, walk her out to the street."

Chloe froze as two guards took her by the arms and guided her off the carpet, right in front of the press line.