Chapter 132

Noticing James's lack of energy, his companion nudged him and said, "Mr. Tudor, have you changed your ways? Haven't seen you with your girlfriend lately. Did you break up again?"

James leaned back on the sofa, his bangs falling over one eye, staring at his glass with a bored expression. "Yeah, we broke up. She was always overthinking. What did she take me for?"

His friend laughed, surprised by the reason.

"It's not hard to guess." The friend continued, "Given your family background, it's no surprise women want something from you. After all, your two older brothers are quite hard to catch."

"What do you mean?" James raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. "Are you saying my ex-girlfriends went for David first and settled for me when they couldn't get him?"

The friend thought, 'Am I being that blunt?'

"The three of you are still single, it's no surprise you're all so popular with the ladies." James's friend patted his shoulder, smiling as he took a sip of his drink.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but just as James was about to agree, he suddenly frowned and retorted unhappily, "Who told you all three of us are single? David has a girlfriend now!"

James's friend didn't even have time to wipe his mouth, his eyes widened. "Really?"

He looked at his glass, then put it down. Shaking James's arm, he asked, "Mr. Tudor, who has a girlfriend?"

James impatiently replied, "How long has it been since you cleaned your ears? You're so close and still can't hear me?"

"Yes, it's been a while. I'll definitely take care of it when I get back!" James's friend nodded quickly. "So, say it again. Who has a girlfriend?"

Annoyed, James pushed him away, stood up, grabbed his suit, and put it on, glaring coldly. "David has a girlfriend, got it?"

Before his friend could respond, he had already put on his coat and was heading for the door, pulling out his phone to call a cab.

The cool night breeze brushed against James as he stood outside the bar, taking deep breaths to sober up. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette but found he was out, which only made him more irritable. There was a strange anger inside him that he couldn't shake off.

Thinking about what the professor had said, he gritted his teeth. He thought, 'Retake the course just because I missed a few classes? Does this guy know who I am? The third son of the Tudor family! Wealthy and powerful! This old man must be out of his mind! If I don't want to retake the exam, I need to get an A on the final, and not even my grandpa can change that.'

Gavin would definitely be furious if he knew!

After standing outside for a while, the cab he had booked arrived. James straightened his coat and was about to get in.

Suddenly, someone rushed out of the alley and fell heavily to the ground, his backpack sliding off. James stopped and turned to look.

Several muscular, tattooed men emerged from the alley, surrounding the person on the ground. One of them kicked him hard and shouted, "Bastard, don't you know who I am? Around here, everyone calls me Mr. Tudor! How dare you cause trouble on my turf?"

James raised an eyebrow slightly.

The boy on the ground wore a black hoodie, with a clear shoe print on the front. He sat cross-legged, neither calling for help nor speaking, as if he had accepted his fate.

"Come on, call me Mr. Tudor once, and I'll let you go!" The thug had just finished his arrogant words when his shoulder was slapped hard, causing him to almost lose his balance.

"Fuck! Who did that?!" He turned around angrily, only to see a tall man in a suit standing behind him, his deep eyes as terrifying as a lurking beast in the night.

The boy on the ground was stunned, looking up at the stranger who stood up for him, surprised.

"So, your last name is also Tudor?" James looked at the tattooed man.

"So what! What's it to you!" The tattooed man retorted provocatively.

James glanced at the boy on the ground and said flatly, "It's none of my business."

Both were momentarily stunned. Then the tattooed man shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and sneered, "Get lost! I despise well-dressed scum like you!"

A few young people came out of the bar. The one in front, playing with his phone, looked up at the commotion, quickly put it away, and ran over with a grin. "Mr. Tudor, I thought you had left already! Why are you still here?"

The tattooed man thought they were talking to him, so he was confused. "Do we know each other?"

Hearing this, James sneered, pointing at the tattooed man and explaining to his friend. "This gentleman's last name is also Tudor."

James's friend was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter, completely disregarding any dignity. He thought, 'That's ridiculous! James actually has the same last name as a thug.'

Seeing this, James's face darkened, and he took a step forward, kicking his friend's calf. "Is it funny?"

The kicked person hurriedly steadied himself against the wall and apologized, "No, no, Mr. James Tudor, don't be mad."

Upon hearing this name, the previously arrogant men turned pale. They thought, 'We're in big trouble! We've messed with the wrong person!'

They quickly exchanged glances and then ran into the alley, disappearing without a trace.

When James came to his senses, there were only fallen leaves and the boy sitting alone on the ground, the once arrogant thugs long gone.

James put his hands in his pockets, his face looking very unpleasant. He used to like showing his forehead, dressing like a successful businessman, but now his hair fell over his eyes, making him seem difficult to deal with.

His friend licked his lips, about to speak, when the boy in the hoodie suddenly stood up, patted the dust off his pants, grabbed his backpack, and walked up to James.

"Fuck." James's friend, looking at the boy who was a head taller than James, was too shocked for words. He thought, 'What are kids eating these days to grow so tall? Perfect for basketball!'

James's face darkened even more, especially when the guy stood in front of him, blocking all the light from the streetlamp behind him.

James was never used to looking up at people, except for family. So he kept his head down, impatiently asking, "What do you want?"

The boy in the hoodie nodded, bent down slightly, and whispered in James's ear, "Thank you."

The fist in James's pocket clenched instantly, and he almost punched him.

"No need to thank me." James took a step back, relaxing a bit as the light shone on his face again. "I didn't save you on purpose."

The boy in the hoodie looked at James for a moment, then nodded apologetically and turned to leave.