Chapter 1

It was another one of those class reunions, all vanity and one-upmanship.

In the opulent private room, Judy Cobb, the former class beauty, pointed at me sitting in the corner and said with a mocking grin, "Adam, since you're not doing so well anyway, why don't you go pour drinks for us at the main table? That way we can save on the waiters' tips."

Everyone burst out laughing, waiting to watch me storm off in a huff.

But I only gave a faint smile, stood up, and did exactly that, carrying myself as humbly as if I really were a waiter here.

After several rounds of drinks and a table full of dishes, once Judy's group had ordered one exorbitant bottle of red wine after another to save face, the moment to settle the bill finally came.

What they didn't know was that this top five-star hotel in the city had just completed a change of ownership the day before.

And the phone in my pocket was buzzing with a text message from the hotel's general manager: "Chairman, which private room are you in? I'd like to come offer you a toast."

Seaford City, the Hyatt Regency Grand Hotel.

As the city's landmark ultra-five-star hotel, the fountain at the entrance of the Hyatt Regency Grand refracted a dazzling golden light under the night sky. In front of the revolving door, luxury cars were everywhere—Porsches, Maseratis, and Bentleys pulling up one after another—while sharply dressed men and women chatted and laughed, the air thick with an extravagant scent called "money."

Adam Fox stood at the bottom of the hotel's front steps and glanced down at his casual clothes. They were out-of-season Uniqlo pieces, worth less than three hundred dollars all together, completely out of place in his surroundings.

"Hey, you over there, quit blocking the way!"

An impatient horn blared, and a brand-new BMW 5 Series screeched to a stop just short of Adam's pant leg. The window rolled down to reveal a slightly puffy face—it was Luther Lambert, Adam's high school classmate and one of the organizers of tonight's gathering.

"Well, if it isn't Adam Fox." Luther took off his sunglasses, gave him an exaggerated once-over, an undisguised sneer on his lips. "What's this? You took a cab here? Figures—parking's pretty pricey around here, twenty bucks an hour. That's enough for a takeout meal for you, right?"

Adam stayed calm, unbothered by the other man's jab, and simply replied, "I walked. I live close by."

"You live around here?" Luther paused, then looked at him as if he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world. "This whole area is the downtown financial district and gated communities. Don't tell me you live back in that rundown inner-city neighborhood? Look, old classmate, it's fine if you're not doing well. We're splitting the bill tonight. If money's really tight, I'll have a word with the class president and we'll waive your share."

A heavily made-up woman in the passenger seat leaned out too—the old drama-club girl. She covered her mouth and laughed. "Luther, don't say that. Adam was a straight-A student back in the day. He's got his pride. There's no way he'd take your charity."

"What good is being a straight-A student? Out in the real world, it comes down to what you can actually do." Luther patted the blue-and-white emblem on his steering wheel and said smugly, "All right, I'm done wasting my breath on you. I've got to go park. Head in on your own, and remember not to walk through the wrong door. We're in the Imperial Hall—don't wander into the staff entrance."

The BMW roared, blasted Adam with exhaust, and sped off.

Adam brushed the dust off his trousers, watching the car disappear with a deep look in his eyes, a playful curve at the corner of his mouth.

No one knew that just yesterday afternoon, Adam had signed a $3.5 billion acquisition contract in the conference room on the top floor of this very hotel. Now the Hyatt Regency Grand Hotel, along with the land it stood on, all belonged to him.

He'd shown up to the party dressed like this not out of some mischievous urge to play the fool and catch them off guard, but because he'd just gotten back from inspecting a mining site overseas and hadn't had time to change before the old class president's barrage of calls dragged him over here. Apparently their former homeroom teacher, Leigh Dickerson, was in poor health and wanted to see everyone.

For his old mentor, Adam had come.

But he hadn't expected that this so-called class reunion would sour from the very first second he walked in.

Adam walked into the lobby, and in the opulent hall, two rows of greeters bowed in unison and called out, "Welcome."

The lobby manager had a sharp eye. He noticed Adam's plain outfit, frowned slightly, and was about to step forward to ask—but the instant he saw Adam's face clearly, his expression changed drastically. He was one of the few senior executives who had seen the new chairman in person at yesterday's signing ceremony.

The manager broke into a cold sweat at once. Just as he was about to blurt out "Chair—," Adam calmly raised his index finger to his lips in a "shh" gesture and swept a cool glance over him.

It was the particular pressure that only someone at the top could project.

The lobby manager was a workplace veteran who had seen it all, and he instantly caught his boss's meaning—an incognito visit, no wish to reveal his identity. He forced the words back down his throat, immediately switching to the professional, fake smile he'd give any ordinary guest, even making a point of seeming a little cold, and stepped aside.

Adam nodded slightly and walked straight to the elevator.

In the elevator, the mirror reflected his slightly weary but still upright figure. These past few years of fighting it out in overseas capital markets had long since made him see through the warmth and coldness of human relations. Tonight's gathering might be the last time he'd observe these old classmates as an "ordinary person."

"The Imperial Hall..." Adam thought, watching the floor numbers tick upward. "I hope your show turns out to be a good one."

The Imperial Hall was one of the largest private rooms in the Hyatt Regency Grand, with a minimum charge starting at eighty-eight thousand.

He pushed open the heavy carved wooden door, and a wave of heat mixed with expensive perfume hit him. Under the enormous crystal chandelier, three big round tables were already full of people.

It may have been called a class reunion, but the seating was clearly "ranked" with great care.

At the main table in the center sat the ones who had been the big shots back in school, or who were now flourishing "successful people." Luther Lambert was right there among them, spraying spit as he bragged about the construction project he'd just landed.

The table on the left held the "middle class"—people who weren't rich, but at least had government jobs or steady incomes.

And the table nearest the door, in the most out-of-the-way spot, right next to the air-conditioning vent, was for the classmates who'd been nobodies back then, or who now looked like they were struggling.

Adam's arrival brought a brief hush over the lively room.

"Well, well, if it isn't the brilliant Adam!"

The one who spoke was the old jock, now a coach at a gym, his muscles straining against his suit.

"Come on, come on, Adam, sit here!" Someone waved, pointing to an empty seat at the "poor man's table" by the door.