The allure of a few rich second-generation’s female companions was unbreakable.

The rich second-generations themselves were not unhappy; with cigarettes dangling from their mouths, they encouraged their female companions to go over and toast.

At first, the female companions hesitated, but the sight of Jimmy Simmons’s face was truly heart-stirring.

Even though Jimmy had lost his power, his wealth was still out of reach for someone like her.

Seeing the greedy look in the woman’s eyes, the rich second-generation just smiled and poured her a glass of wine.

Fortune favors the bold, and in many cases, it’s all about taking a risk.

The woman hesitated for just half a second before picking up her glass and moving closer.

The room’s lighting was a dizzying mix of reds and greens—an irritant in the dim light.

For the occasion, the woman had purposely worn a low-cut outfit and had her hair done in big curls, with a seductive perfume sprayed all over her.

"President Simmons."

Now they no longer called him President Simmons but had reverted to his old moniker.

The woman’s voice was sticky sweet, it was obvious what she was angling for with just one listen.

Jimmy didn’t speak, supporting his head with his hand as he intriguingly observed the woman who nearly pressed herself up against him.

A face patched up and heavily made-up, it held a certain appeal in the dim lighting.

The woman was obviously very confident in herself.

Yet Jimmy spoke up, "Red doesn’t suit you, change it."

The woman paused, glancing down at her dress.

Although she didn’t understand what Jimmy meant, she still nodded, "Alright, I’ll listen to President Simmons. It’s just... this dress of mine is a bit hard to take off; I wonder if you could help me."

The most basic of flirtation tactics.

Jimmy gestured, "Come here."

Looking elated, the woman almost wanted to crawl right on top of Jimmy.

Her hand, painted with red nail polish, was about to touch the man’s chest when her wrist was met with a sharp pain.

Before she could react, she felt a heavy kick in her stomach.

The woman fell between the sofa and the coffee table.

The noise was loud enough for everyone to turn and look.

They watched the show with interest.

Jimmy took out his lighter, lit a cigarette, grabbed a bottle of red wine and poured it over the woman’s head.

The woman screamed, trying to dodge, but she froze in place, not daring to move.

"You dare to present this trash to me?"

His tone was icy cold, his expression a mix of mirth and scorn.

The rich second-generation who had pushed his female companion to provoke Jimmy couldn’t take it anymore and came out to apologize.

No one wanted to be targeted by a lunatic.

Even though the Simmons Clan had been bought out, Jimmy was still not someone these people could ridicule or provoke at will.

As the night wore on, more people actively approached Jimmy to curry favor.

Jimmy blew out a smoke ring and lazily eyed the man beside him. "I heard you have some connections in the entertainment industry."

The man hurriedly nodded, "There are a few connections, President Simmons. If you’re interested in any celebrities, I guarantee I can arrange for them to come over."

Jimmy laughed coldly and said, "Even Hannah Winter?"

The man was stupefied, his face a mix of wanting to speak and fearing to do so, "That..."

Who would dare to touch that fiancée?

Even rumor mills now carefully steered clear of her, fearing the repercussions.

Jimmy snuffed out the cigarette between his fingers, tapped the man’s face with the lighter, "Look at how scared you are, I was just joking with you."

The man didn’t dare to delve into what was a joke and what wasn’t, and could only serve up a few stilted laughs while wiping the sweat from his brow, "I know, I know."

The raucous singing continued.

In the room, those who were drunk revealed their ugliest sides, and as they played, the noise soon became unbearable to hear.