Chapter 2

Adam didn't mind. He nodded, walked over, and sat down. Most of the classmates at this table looked reserved, and their clothes were on the plain side. When they saw Adam sit down, a few of them gave him friendly smiles, sharing a quiet, we're-in-the-same-boat understanding.

"Adam, I heard you dropped off the map for a few years. Where'd you go to strike it rich?" asked a bespectacled guy next to him. His name was Silas Chavez. He used to be an honest sort, and now he looked like a programmer, with a hairline that had crept back a bit.

"No fortune to speak of. Just doing odd jobs overseas, scraping by," Adam said offhandedly, making it up as he went. He really was "working" abroad—only as a partner at a top Wall Street venture capital firm, "working" for the global economy.

"It's not easy making a living abroad either. The economy's rough right now." Silas sighed and patted Adam on the shoulder with real sympathy. "Good thing you're back, though. Sure, the grind here is brutal, but at least it's steady. If you don't have a job, I could get you a referral at my company. The hours are brutal, but you'd clear over ten thousand a month."

Adam glanced at Silas, a little surprised. In such a snobbish setting, this plain, honest kindness felt especially rare. He smiled. "Thanks, but I've got a job."

"Where at?"

"Right here." Adam pointed at the floor under his feet. "Doing some management work."

"Here?" Silas was startled for a moment, then lowered his voice. "The Hyatt Regency? That's a great place! But are you on the lobby side or housekeeping? I hear the staff here get decent pay—just tiring work."

Clearly, what Silas pictured by "management work" was worlds apart from what Adam meant. Adam didn't explain, just nodded vaguely.

Right then the private room door swung open again, and the crisp click of high heels on the floor drew everyone's eyes.

A woman in a red off-the-shoulder evening gown, with flawless makeup and an Hermès Birkin bag on her arm, walked in. The moment she appeared, the whole room seemed to brighten.

Judy Cobb—the class beauty back in the day, and the dream girl of every boy in school.

"Oh, so sorry I'm late. Traffic was awful, and my Panamera is just too wide to slip through the gaps." Judy apologized and humble-bragged in the same breath.

"Not late at all—it's never too late for the goddess to arrive!" Luther shot to his feet and, like an eager lapdog, pulled out the seat of honor beside the head table. "Judy, sit here!"

Judy sat down gracefully, her gaze sweeping the room as if inspecting her own domain. When it landed on Adam in the corner, it paused.

There was no joy of a long-awaited reunion in her eyes—only naked contempt and a faint, barely perceptible resentment.

Back in high school, Judy had once slipped a love letter to Adam, the top student of the class. But Adam, buried in his books and from a poor family, had turned her down. The proud, arrogant Judy had never let it go, treating it as a mortifying humiliation.

Now the tables had turned. She was a rich man's wife who'd married into money and ran a chain of beauty salons; while Adam, judging by his shabby appearance, was nothing but a low-level laborer.

"That's Adam, isn't it?" Judy said suddenly, her voice soft but plenty loud enough for the whole room to hear.

Adam looked up and met her gaze evenly.

"I heard you work at the Hyatt Regency?" A teasing smile curved Judy's lips. "Perfect—I'm not too familiar with the wines here. Why don't you come over and walk us through them?"

03

The atmosphere in the room turned delicate in an instant.

Everyone caught the barb in Judy's words. Making an old classmate play waiter at a reunion, introducing the drinks, wasn't just being difficult—it was flat-out public humiliation.

"Judy, that's not really appropriate..." Julius, the class president beside her, tried to smooth things over. "We're all classmates today—no job is higher or lower than another."

"Julius, now you've got it wrong." Judy gave the wine in her glass a slow swirl, her eyes sharp. "Since he works here, he's practically half our host. And besides, I imagine Adam would be glad to serve us, wouldn't he? After all, he was famous for his 'helpfulness' back in the day."

She put a heavy stress on "helpfulness," clearly mocking the time she'd been rejected.

Luther jumped right in. "Exactly, exactly! Adam, since you work here, you must know these wines inside and out. Come on, come on—we're short a pourer at this table, and the waiters are all thumbs. Why not you?"

"Luther, you've gone too far!" Silas couldn't help getting to his feet. "Adam came to a reunion, not to be a waiter!"

"Hey, Silas, what's the hurry? I never said I wouldn't pay him." Luther pulled a wad of red bills from his wallet and slapped it down on the table. "Adam, here's a thousand—call it your tip. How about it? One night's wages, worth half a month's pay to you, right?"

The people at the head table broke into laughter.

Adam looked at the stack of bills, then at Judy and Luther and their taunting faces. He wasn't angry. If anything, he found it a little funny.

So this was so-called "high society"? This was what his old classmates really were?

If you want to play, then I'll play along.

Adam gently pressed down on Silas, who was about to blow up, gave him a reassuring look, and then slowly rose to his feet.

"Sure."

Adam's voice was clear and bright, an unreadable smile on his face.

He walked toward the head table, his stride unhurried, showing not a trace of humiliation or awkwardness—if anything, he moved with the easy grace of a man strolling through a courtyard.

"Since an old classmate asks, of course I'll oblige." Adam stepped up beside Judy and picked up the decanter.

Watching Adam so obedient, Judy felt a huge rush of satisfaction. Back then you were so high and mighty, you rejected me—and now here you are, bowing for a few coins, waiting on me like a servant?

"Smart of you to know your place." Judy gave a cold snort. "Pour everyone a full glass. Careful now—this wine runs over five thousand a bottle. Spill a single drop and you couldn't cover it even if you sold yourself."

Adam smiled faintly. With practiced ease he gripped the base of the bottle, gave his wrist a slight turn, and the dark red wine slid into the glass like silk—not a drop spilled, and every glass filled precisely to a third.

The professional way he served the wine left several people staring.

"Oh, so you've trained at this?" Luther jeered. "Looks like you've done plenty of this at the hotel. Real pro."

Adam ignored the sarcasm, calmly finished pouring, then stepped aside and gave a slight bow. "Please, enjoy."