C5 The Man Raised His Head!

As Fischer approached the private room where Cornell was, he spotted him and another man deep in hushed conversation at the doorway from afar.

"This is a special concoction from Sakaranis, Young Mr. Burns. One sip and even the most defiant woman will willingly succumb," the man whispered with a sly grin.

Cornell nodded with a smug smile, "Once I've sealed the deal, rest assured, you'll be handsomely rewarded."

He then turned and sauntered back into the private room.

Fischer clenched his jaw and turned to Bradley, "I don't want my identity revealed. Stay out here, don't come in after me."

"Of course, young master!" Bradley responded obediently.

Inside, the party was in full swing. Three portly middle-aged men with lecherous smiles ogled Rosailla. "Let's toast, Miss Murray. Your company's financial woes are as good as solved with us on board."

"Thank you so much, gentlemen," Rosailla replied with a forced smile, raising her glass.

Suddenly, a thunderous crash echoed from the doorway as Fischer burst in, his face contorted with fury.

The room fell silent, each person wearing a mix of shock and curiosity at the interruption.

Rosailla's eyes widened in disbelief, uncertain why Fischer had appeared so unexpectedly.

Cornell's eyes flickered with surprise; he hadn't anticipated that the man he deemed a loser would dare to storm the Silver Club.

With a sneer, he taunted, "Mr. Myers, I was in the midst of a business discussion with Rosailla. Don't you think kicking in the door is a bit uncouth?"

Fischer shot him a cold glance and turned his attention to Rosailla.

A flicker of turmoil passed through Rosailla's expressive eyes.

"Fischer, what are you doing here? I'm in the middle of a business meeting," she said, her voice tinged with weariness and resignation.

Rosailla had indeed come to negotiate business, oblivious to Cornell's vile plan to drug her into compliance.

Understandably, she was upset by Fischer's abrupt intrusion.

Without a word, Fischer took hold of Rosailla's wrist firmly. "Rosailla, this guy's bad news. He's up to no good with you. Let's get out of here."

Rosailla's voice broke into sobs. "Fischer, what exactly are you trying to accomplish? Are you going to be happy only when I'm bankrupt?"

Fischer, taken aback, replied earnestly, "Rosailla, you've got it all wrong. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Rosailla massaged her forehead, feeling a throbbing pain as if her head was about to split open.

Unbeknownst to her, the wine she had sipped was laced with a drug, leaving her voice feeble as she pleaded, "Please, just go home. Stop causing trouble. I'll come back later."

Fischer looked at her, hurt. "Is that really all you think I'm capable of? Causing trouble?"

Cornell let out a derisive laugh. "Fischer, you've put Rosailla through enough. Isn't it time you stopped making her life miserable?"

"Shut your mouth!"

Fischer, unable to contain his anger at Cornell's provocation, roared and swung his fist, landing a solid punch on Cornell's face.

Cornell's glasses shattered with a loud crack, and blood gushed from his nose.

The investors who had been watching the drama unfold stood up in disbelief. They hadn't expected the so-called pretty boy to have the guts to throw a punch!

"You dare hit me?!"

Cornell's face contorted with rage. Seizing an expensive bottle of liquor from the table, he swung it viciously at Fischer's head.

Rosailla let out a sharp scream.

In the nick of time, a hand firmly caught Cornell's wrist. A knee slammed into his stomach with such force that he was sent flying back a meter.

The man was Bradley's personal bodyguard.

After intervening, he glared at Cornell sprawled on the ground and said icily, "Mr. Burns, your membership at the Silver Club is hereby terminated. Leave now, or I'll make sure you regret staying."

The room fell silent, everyone stunned by the turn of events.

After a few seconds, a real estate tycoon brought by Cornell asked, bewildered, "Are you sure you've got this right? That kid was the first to throw a punch! Young Mr. Burns got hit by him. Why are you revoking his membership instead of punishing the instigator?"

Bradley's bodyguard maintained his innocuous smile as he spoke calmly, "It's not just him—your memberships are all revoked as well. You're banned for life from the Silver Club!"

Pandemonium ensued in the room! The Silver Club membership was their golden ticket to navigating the business world and flaunting their status. They had all worked tirelessly to secure it. How could it be stripped away so abruptly?

In a mix of shock and disbelief, they demanded, "What's going on here?"

"Where's Director Burns? We want answers, and we want them now!"

With a mocking laugh, Bradley's bodyguard retorted, "You think you deserve an audience with Director Burns? I suggest you leave quickly before he loses his temper. Otherwise, you'll be making enemies not just of him, but of the entire Silver Club. And trust me, you don't want to see what happens then!"

The threat left them paralyzed with fear.

Enemies of the Silver Club?

The mere thought was enough to send shivers down their spines. If word got out, who would dare associate with them in the future?

They had only come to assist Cornell with his romantic pursuits; no one intended to cross the Silver Club.

Seeing them still stunned, Bradley's bodyguard called out to the security team, "Get these deadbeats out of here!"

A swarm of security guards rushed in, hoisting each man up and carrying them out with no ceremony.

Once the commotion settled, Bradley's bodyguard approached Fischer with a slight smile, "Mr. Myers, does this meet your expectations?"

Just then, Rosailla's legs buckled, and she collapsed onto the sofa.

Fischer's concern was immediate as he caught her, exclaiming, "Rosailla!"

The bodyguard quickly assessed her, sniffing the wine glass, and reassured, "Mr. Myers, there's no cause for alarm. Miss Murray was slipped Triazolam, but the dose appears to be small and not life-threatening. I'll fetch some medication to counteract the drug's effects."

Fischer nodded, a wave of relief washing over him.

In no time, Bradley's bodyguard produced a vial of oral solution and handed it to Fischer. Carefully, Fischer administered it to Rosailla and monitored her closely. Once her breathing stabilized, he finally allowed himself to relax.

He was familiar with Triazolam, the drug used on Rosailla. Just a small dose could knock someone out for hours, impervious to any attempts at waking them. It was a dangerous substance.

"Despicable lowlifes," Fischer thought. "They'll pay dearly for this."

Despite his anger, Fischer couldn't shake a creeping sense of fear. He had arrived just in time to prevent a disaster.

Bradley approached, concern etched on his face. "Mr. Myers, is your wife okay?"

Cradling Rosailla in his arms, Fischer replied, "She'll be fine. I'm taking her home. Let's keep today's events between us."

"Should I handle those jerks tonight?" Bradley asked, ready to act.

Fischer's expression darkened. "Death would be too kind for them. No, I plan to make their lives a living hell."