Chapter 562 What do you say, Constantine?

Upon hearing this, Constantine's face darkened. "Mr. Clark, let me remind you—in New York, my family's standing is way above your little outsider Maple Group. Take my advice, kid—don't get too cocky."

Ryder shrugged, unfazed. "Funny, I've heard that before. There was this guy—Boss T—said the same thing. Know where he ended up?"

"Oh?"

Ryder let out a dry chuckle. "That guy's rotting in jail now—got busted for a hit-and-run."

"You—!" Constantine was speechless, his face twitching with barely contained rage.

After thinking for a moment, he finally suppressed his anger. "Alright, Mr. Clark. What do you want?"

Ryder let out a loud laugh and clapped Constantine on the shoulder.

He pointed at Bradley with one finger. "Your bald buddy really got under my skin. He wanted to crack my skull open with a beer bottle! So, I'm thinking I'll return the favor."

Then he held up a second finger. "As for the whole beauty-stealing thing? Look, I'm not trying to start a war with you. Just pick up the tab for tonight's party. What do you say, Constantine?"

To this, Constantine just pulled a wry smile and nodded in agreement.

Bradley, standing nearby, was so scared that his legs went weak, and he directly knelt down in front of Ryder, begging for mercy.

He started slapping his own face. "Mr. Clark, please forgive me! I beg you!"

But Ryder didn't flinch.

He gave Brent a quick nod.

Brent understood and directly swung a wine bottle, smashing it hard on Bradley's bald head.

The bottle shattered.

Bradley fell to the ground, blood from his scalp mixing with the red wine and flowing down!

This scene made many people present scream in fear.

Ryder let out a hearty laugh. "Now that's what I call a good time! Constantine, consider me a friend."

He threw a light fist bump to Constantine's chest—a gesture of respect.

Then, with a yawn, Ryder announced he was beat and headed out of the private room with Brent and Rex in tow.

Once they were gone, Constantine's expression turned serious. "So, all of you got your arms busted?"

Five programmers, now dressed, nodded:

"Yeah, it's all on Bradley—he had to mess with that jacked dude!"

"No kidding! He snapped and broke our arms!"

"If this hand's wrecked and we can't code, the project's toast!"

Constantine let out a frustrated sigh. "I'll call an ambulance first! Let's get to the hospital and figure this out!"

While waiting for the ambulance, Constantine flagged down a waiter and asked for the bill.

The waiter handed it over with a polite nod. "Mr. Young, your total comes to 6,375,321. But since you're a VIP, we'll round it down to 6,370,000."

$6,370,000!

Constantine's hand shook. "That can't be right! Even the top VIP suite maxes out at $2 million. How the hell is it this much?"

The waiter calmly explained, "The VIP suite is $980,000. The rest is all from Room 6's tab."

"What?" Constantine stared at the bill.

Sure enough, the prices were clearly listed:

Lake of Crystals pure mineral water, $100,000 per glass, three glasses, totaling $300,000;

Top-notch red wine, $600,000 per bottle, three bottles, totaling $1,800,000;

Top pastry chef handmade cakes, $50,000 each, three, totaling $150,000;

Escort fees...

Fuck, those three bastards!

He had lived most of his life and had never seen such extravagance!

Constantine cursed Ryder and the others in his heart.

But with his years of experience sizing people up, Constantine could tell this Ryder wasn't the sharp, ruthless operator the rumors made him out to be.

He was just some spoiled rich kid playing around.

Once this project got rolling, Maple Group would be gobbled up in no time.

With that in mind, Constantine didn't hesitate—he shelled out the over six million bucks to Breeze Club.

Then he hopped in the ambulance and headed straight to the hospital.

After the docs checked them out, turns out the five programmers just had dislocated arms—nothing a quick fix couldn't handle. But they'd be out of commission for coding for at least a week.

As for Bradley, who took that bottle to the head from Brent, was still knocked out cold. Docs said there's a chance he might not wake up—ever.

Constantine had no choice but to bring in a new project manager.

At the same time, he had to delay the project by a week to let the five injured programmers recover.

Fortunately, even with a one-week delay, the project could still be launched smoothly by the end of the month!

Meanwhile, Ryder and the crew slipped out of private room No. 6 and made their way to the boss's office on the top floor of Breeze Club, watching Constantine roll off in the ambulance.

Brent muttered, "Man, I feel like I didn't swing that bottle hard enough earlier!"

Ryder smirked, still riding the high of his earlier act. "What, you wanna chase him to the hospital and finish the job? Say we're not done yet?"

Looking back on his performance as a cocky rich kid, Ryder had to admit—it felt pretty damn good.

Brent sighed deeply.

If it hadn't been for that stunt at Rigal District Stadium—where he'd freaked out Tyler by playing ghost—he'd never have found out the truth. His dad, Lester, had been poisoned.

And the one behind it was Bradley!

Brent was determined to settle the score with the Youngs, piece by piece.

But he knew better than to rush it. Taking down a family like that? It had to be done right.

One step at a time!

"Alright, if there's nothing else, I'll head down to private room No. 2 to chat with Mr. Baker and the others, and strengthen our cooperative relationship."

"Go for it," Ryder said with a nod.

With that, Brent got up and left.

Now it was just Ryder, Rex, and Donna hanging out in the boss's office, sipping on juice and shooting the breeze.

As for Ryan and Clara? Well, they were probably occupied in some other room.

"So, Donna, how's it been staying here and getting treatment from Clara? Any better?" Ryder asked, his voice soft with concern.

Donna nodded, then let out a small sigh. "It's not something that'll fix overnight."

Rex jumped in, trying to lift her spirits. "Don't lose hope—there's always a chance!"

Ryder chimed in, "Rex is right. Keep fighting. There's always a way."

Donna made an OK gesture and smiled sweetly.

Then she rolled her eyes, annoyed. "But that Tyler guy is such a pain! Even after selling the stadium, he's still spreading ghost stories. Doesn't he get anything better to do?"

"That's perfect!" Ryder grinned.

Donna shot him a look like he was out of his mind. "Perfect? How? Even if we wanted to turn it into a haunted theme park, no one's gonna show up to work on it. It's a dead end!"

"Relax!" Ryder said, still grinning.

Donna pouted. "I'm not relaxed, okay?"

Ryder laid it out. "The timing's off, so there's no hurry. Right now, short videos are popular. Take Brandon and the crew to the stadium, shoot some spooky clips, and blast them across all platforms. What Tyler's doing? Free promo for us. As for the haunted theme park—that's the endgame. No need to rush it."

Donna went quiet for a moment, but her eyes lit up.

Finally, she slapped her thigh. "The short video idea's genius! I'm in!"

Overnight Riches
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