Klein reached beneath his shirt, producing a skull-shaped pendant.

"Is this what you meant?"

"You're the one who hugged me!" Ruben yelled, his voice tinged with surprise.

Klein let go abruptly and delivered a sharp slap to the back of Ruben's head. “Why didn't you speak up earlier? Benson laid into me. He even threatened to spill the beans to my dad!"

“How could I have known? Why not ponder how you failed to realize you were embracing a man?" Ruben retorted.

"I was overly excited then," Klein defended. "In the darkness, I didn't initially notice."

“Shall we return and fully explain to Benson?" Ruben proposed.

“Forget it. He's formidable. If he doesn't trust us, we'll be in deeper trouble. Let's stay low. I don't want him to file another complaint to my dad!"

Raegan's thoughts spun like a carousel as the two men vanished into the distance, leaving her with a bewildered expression frozen on her face. The individual who had embraced her, as it turned out, wasn't Klein. Then who was it?

As Raegan meticulously reconstructed the night's seating plan in her mind, vivid details emerged.

Klein wore a blazer, while the man who had embraced her donned a simple dress shirt. Benson's friend chose a dress shirt, yet he sat several spaces away, making it impossible for him to quickly return before the room lit up. With him out of view, suspicion focused on the remaining man in a dress shirt.

Raegan's fist clenched so tightly that her palm stung. Could it really be Mitchel?

At the clubhouse entrance, Amilia followed closely behind Mitchel.

The harsh outdoor lights illuminated Amilia's battered face, revealing a disturbing scene of injuries: a swollen cheek, raw scratches on her neck, dark bruises on her arms, and disheveled hair framing her face like a tragic halo. It seemed she had just emerged from a fierce battle.

Indeed, Amilia had. She had just endured a fierce confrontation with her so-called friend, Felice. Felice asserted having witnessed Mitchel hand Amilia a business card, but Amilia vehemently denied it.

Unconvinced, Felice took action, delivering two sharp slaps to Amilia, demanding the card.

Nonetheless, Amilia stood firm, clutching the card like a vital lifeline. It represented her sole chance to rise into the upper strata of society.

Despite their supposed friendship, Felice had consistently treated Amilia with contempt, a constant reminder of their disparate backgrounds.

With her connections and resources, Felice could secure an invitation to the exclusive Kingbel Club, a world Amilia yearned to join.

Amilia acted as an intermediary, obtaining eligible men's contact details for Felice. Only when Felice deemed the prospects unsuitable did they reach Amilia.