In an instant, the atmosphere tightened even more. Everyone watched, their hearts pounding for Grayson.
"It's over for this kid."
"A dozen or so gang bosses blocking a single person—never seen anything like this."
"These guys almost represent every major faction in Cleveland!"
They all shook their heads, convinced that Grayson was done for.
"Are you really one of Derek's men?" Grayson asked, smiling slightly. He'd never expected Derek Thompson to be so powerful that a whole roomful of gang leaders would treat his name with such reverence.
"Kid, show some respect when you speak of Mr. Thompson!" one of the gang bosses snapped.
"Why waste words? Just grab him and bring him to Mr. Thompson. We'll have accomplished something big—maybe even earn ourselves a spot under Thompson's wing!" another chimed in.
"Yeah, yeah!" echoed the rest. All of them were thinking along the same lines.
By this point, Grayson had already dialed Derek's number.
"Hello, Young Master Grayson!" Derek answered on the first ring.
"Manager Derek," Grayson cut straight to the point. "Do you know someone named Dante Moretti?"
"Ah?" Derek sounded momentarily stunned. "Dante Moretti? Yeah, I know him. He's a nobody—lately he's been begging me to take him under my protection. I agreed just this morning. Young Master Grayson, how do you know him?"
Honestly, Derek was a little alarmed. Why would Grayson mention this small-time thug all of a sudden? Over the past few weeks, Dante had been working his contacts to curry favor with Derek—everyone in Cleveland's underworld knew that claiming to be "one of Mr. Thompson's people" would earn you respect, or at least some slack.
As for Grayson, Derek could see that he was humble by nature, and he treated people equally, no matter their social standing. Just the last time they'd met at the Maple Creek Inn & Suites, Grayson had come to the defense of some ordinary guys who wouldn't have seemed important to anyone else. So it wasn't impossible that Grayson and Dante Moretti might even know each other.
Grayson's voice crackled across the line. "Right now, Dante's standing right in front of me. He messed with me—I just beat the crap out of him—and now none of these guys are letting me leave."
"What?!" Derek's breath caught. He had been anticipating any number of reasons for Dante's fall from grace, but he never expected something this dire. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. "Young Master Grayson, wait a moment. I'll call him."
"Okay." Grayson hung up, knowing Derek could handle Dante's end of things.
On the other side of town, Dante's phone began to ring. When he saw Derek Thompson's caller ID, he nearly dropped the phone in shock, both hands fumbling to answer.
"Hello, Mr. Thompson. It's such an honor to get your call, sir, I—" he started, his voice trembling with false bravado.
But before he could finish, Derek's voice interrupted him. It didn't take long before Dante's face turned ashen; cold sweat broke out all over his skin, and he looked like a man who had just glimpsed his own grave.
"He's waiting," Derek instructed. "Put the phone on speaker."
Dante, utterly powerless, fumbled to press the speaker function. He stood there, head bowed, holding the phone out in front of Grayson.
"Manager Derek," Grayson greeted coolly.
"Young Master Grayson, rest assured—I will punish him severely," Derek promised, then hesitated. "By the way…what exactly did he do to you?"
"He…hit…my girlfriend." Grayson broke the sentence into three parts, placing extra emphasis on the last two words.
Derek nearly collapsed in horror. He thought, My god—this is worse than I realized. Perhaps Dante had merely talked back to Grayson, but to actually lay hands on Grayson's girlfriend… That was sacrilege. Still, Derek secretly felt a twinge of excitement. Grayson had a girlfriend? He'd have to congratulate him someday—maybe this girl would become Grayson's wife one day.
Meanwhile, the entire dining hall fell silent. Every set of eyes was fixed on Grayson, ears straining to catch every word on the phone. Dante, hands still pressed to his sides, didn't dare move a muscle.
"I love…my girlfriend," Grayson added, voice softening around that final phrase.
"Young Master Grayson, I understand. I promise you, I will give you a satisfactory outcome!"
"All right." Grayson didn't say another word.
He then turned to face the dozen or so gang bosses who had been blocking his exit. "Now…can I leave?"
Without hesitation, they all stepped back to clear a path.
Grayson strode through the hall and out of the restaurant.
Dante, still holding the phone, dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Mr. Thompson, I really didn't know he was—"
"Enough," Derek's voice cut through him like a whip. "At 1:40 this afternoon, there will be a train departing Cleveland bound for Silver Hollow. When it leaves, you need to be on that train. Don't buy a ticket—car 7, seat 42A is your seat."
"Mr. Thompson, please, I beg you—"
Dante fell to pleading. Life in Cleveland's gangs had taught him one lesson: when Derek Thompson spoke, you obeyed.
"Stop begging—there's no use. You have no idea just how powerful the person you offended is. Once you leave Cleveland, never come back. If you set foot in this city again, you're as good as dead." Derek had basically exiled Dante from the only place he'd ever known. For someone whose family, influence, and entire world were in Cleveland, this was a devastating sentence.
Over by the restaurant table, the ten or so gang bosses listened to Derek's verdict. They exchanged glances of satisfaction and even excitement. After all, just earlier, Dante had thrown this dinner to celebrate his supposed "induction" under Derek's name. In reality, it had been nothing more than a show of arrogance—which had now blown up spectacularly. To see Dante humiliated and exiled made them feel a grim joy: their rival had finally gotten what he deserved. And with Dante out of the picture, maybe one of them could take his place in Thompson's favor.
After hanging up, Derek paused a moment before speaking again. "Cancel that order," he said. "Let him live."
He waved off his aide, who had been preparing to carry out Derek's earlier instructions to eliminate Dante on the train. Derek shook his head and muttered, "That's too extreme. Young Master Grayson isn't a cruel man. If he ever finds out I had Dante killed, he'll think my punishment was too harsh. Enough of that." Grayson had saved Jasmine's life—he deserved to see justice, not a murder. The satisfaction of seeing Dante exiled was more than enough.
Later that afternoon, Grayson and Jasmine returned to school together. They strolled through the sun-dappled tree-lined avenue leading up to the main gate.
"You wouldn't let me keep working at the restaurant," Jasmine said, looking up at him. "How am I supposed to pay off that million-dollar debt if I can't work? I need to earn money…"
"Don't worry," Grayson replied, gently squeezing her hand. "I won't let you ever leave my side again. As long as you're with me, I don't care whether I owe ten million or a hundred million—I'll handle them together."
His reassuring words sent a thrill of sweetness through her chest—so strong that it made her forget about debts and danger for the moment. Nothing felt more precious than being with the one you love.
"I want to eat something," Jasmine said out of the blue, her eyes bright.
"Sure—what do you want? I'll go buy it," Grayson asked, grinning.
"I want Häagen-Dazs," Jasmine said.
"Wow—Häagen-Dazs? You're just a waitress, and you want Häagen-Dazs? That's so fancy! Haha," he teased, but in his heart, he was already planning to run to the shop.
"Just a single serving," Jasmine added, looking a bit shy. "I want to take it to the lakeside and eat it with you."
Jasmine's shy request sent a surge of joy through Grayson's heart. He never realized her tastes could be so sweet.
"All right," he said. "Wait right here—I'll be back in a flash." With that, he shot off toward the Häagen-Dazs shop near the school gate.
Left alone, Jasmine practically felt her heart fluttering like a caged bird, imagining their moment together by Mirror Lake, sharing that ice cream. She stood there, smiling, waiting patiently for him.
Suddenly, a voice called out behind her. "Hey there, beautiful—why are you standing here all alone? Want to make a friend?"