"What? Can't sleep?" Jiang Hai asked as he approached Cheryl Lee, who was sitting quietly on the balcony. He held two bottles of water, handed her one, and took a seat across from her.
Cheryl had chosen to stay at Jiang Hai's manor that night, though not in his room. They weren't that close, especially without Pra Walton as a bridge between them. Instead, Cheryl had taken a guest room. It was already two in the morning, and Jiang Hai, feeling thirsty, had gotten up to fetch some water. Finding none left in his room, he went downstairs and grabbed two bottles. On his way back, he noticed Cheryl sitting on the second-floor balcony, gazing at the moon.
Jiang Hai's balcony was semi-enclosed, made entirely of glass. In the summer, the glass panels could be lifted, transforming it into an open-air space. In winter, the panels were lowered, providing insulation without obstructing the view. It was one of Jiang Hai's favorite spots—whether to look at the stars or simply enjoy the peace of the night.
"I just… couldn't fall asleep," Cheryl said softly as she accepted the water. She forced a smile, opened the bottle, took a sip, then turned her gaze back to the sky.
"You don't need to worry so much. Trust me." Jiang Hai didn't need to guess—he knew she was worried about Pra Walton. But he was determined to protect her, no matter what.
"I do trust you. We all do. But even when you trust someone completely, it's still natural to worry. It's like when a family member goes in for surgery. You know the chances of success are high, but that doesn't stop the anxiety." Cheryl pursed her lips, her voice serious.
Jiang Hai smiled. It was good that Pra had friends like her.
"Don't worry. Just stay here and rest. I promise I'll bring Pra Walton back safe and sound." He stood up, gave Cheryl a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and spoke with quiet determination.
They had already agreed that only Jiang Hai would attend the upcoming cocktail party. Cheryl would stay behind at the manor. If things went south, Jiang Hai might be able to escape with Pra. But adding Cheryl to the mix could complicate things.
"I understand. You should get some sleep too," Cheryl said, grateful but concerned. She knew he had a long day ahead—he was heading to New York in the morning.
Jiang Hai nodded, waved goodbye, and returned to his room.
He didn't know when Cheryl eventually went to bed. By the time he came down for breakfast, she was nowhere to be seen.
During breakfast, Jiang Hai explained the situation to Darlene and the others. Darlene and Marianne vaguely remembered Pra Walton—an eccentric older woman who had, however, given them many gifts. Bernice, Xiaoya, and Azarina, on the other hand, didn't know her. Still, since she was someone important to Jiang Hai, they understood why he had to help.
After breakfast, Jiang Hai set off in his SUV, the War Shield, heading straight to the Hilton Hotel in New York. The Walton family's gathering was scheduled for the next day. Since not everyone would arrive at the same time, the family had pre-booked rooms for early guests, with accommodations tailored to their status.
According to Walton family records, Jiang Hai was 27 years old, with a net worth of approximately two billion dollars. Last year alone, he'd brought Walmart Sam's Club a pre-tax profit of over $137 million. While not the top VIP, he was still considered a high-tier partner. Upon presenting his driver's license and invitation, he was given the key to a top-tier suite—though not a presidential one.
The suite was spacious, with three rooms: a smaller one typically reserved for bodyguards, a large living room, a study, and a master bedroom. Jiang Hai had come alone this time—his business wasn't entirely legitimate, so he hadn't brought Azarina along.
He liked the suite. The master bedroom featured one-way glass—transparent from the inside, reflective from the outside. It gave the space a sleek, modern look and made Jiang Hai feel more at ease.
After a brief rest, he headed to the hotel cafeteria for lunch. Then, he took a trip to Fifth Avenue to buy a proper suit.
Usually, Jiang Hai dressed casually. Even at formal events, he would wear expensive outdoor gear that, despite its price, didn't look refined. Most of the time, his attire had to be tolerated by hosts simply because he was invited. But tonight was different—he wasn't just attending. He was planning to take Pra Walton away, and that called for a proper appearance.
The last suit he wore was for his wedding, a modest one his late mother had paid for—worn only once. Another suit, bought by Qi Li during the previous year's Chinese New Year, had also seen just a single outing. Both were now hanging in his old home in Bingcheng. He wasn't planning to wear either again.
His initial plan was to spend around $1,000 on a suit, but after calling Moses Adams, he was persuaded to invest in something more appropriate. Not because he needed to show off, but because, as a wealthy and respected man, he ought to own at least one high-quality suit.
So Jiang Hai ended up at Alexander Amorso, a custom suit shop on Fifth Avenue. The moment he walked in, an elderly gentleman approached him.
"Sir, may I help you?" the old man asked, eyeing Jiang Hai with polite curiosity.
"Uh… I want to buy a suit," Jiang Hai said, a bit embarrassed.
"Did you place an order, or are you here to place one now?" the man asked.
"I didn't order anything. I was hoping to buy one off the rack," Jiang Hai admitted.
The old man smiled and shook his head. "We don't sell ready-made suits here, sir. Everything is custom-made. To be honest, I wouldn't recommend buying from us unless you're prepared—our suits are quite expensive."
"Oh? How expensive?" Jiang Hai asked, intrigued. Moses Adams wouldn't have recommended this place without reason.
As the old man opened a sample book, Jiang Hai's heart skipped a beat. Most suits were priced between $80,000 and $90,000—and that was the lower end. The premium ones went for over $100,000, with some reaching $200,000. Were these suits or gold-plated armor?
"Yes, quite expensive," the old man chuckled. "We don't get many customers, but we don't need to. We make enough from a few orders."
What Jiang Hai didn't realize was that Alexander Amorso was the most expensive custom suit shop in the world. Compared to this, brands like Hermès and Armani didn't even register among the truly elite. Real connoisseurs wore Brioni, Zegna, or Brooks Brothers. Amorso was in a class of its own.
"I don't mind the price," Jiang Hai finally said. "But I need to wear it for a party tomorrow night…"
The old man took that as a challenge. "If you need it by tomorrow, I'll work through the night. I'll bring in extra help. You can try it on at noon, and we'll still have the afternoon for adjustments."
Jiang Hai nodded. Guess I'm buying it then. Moses was right—he needed at least one proper suit.
He selected a blend heavy on cashmere, priced from $90,000, for its warmth, comfort, and flexibility. When it came to style, he was lost again. Casual? Formal? Business? The old man reassured him: "As long as it's a suit, no one will care. Rich people wear them however they like."
Jiang Hai went with a casual two-button design. After placing a $10,000 deposit, he left, while the old man called in his best tailors. These suits were handmade with over 16,000 stitches—not something one person could finish in a day, but with teamwork, it was possible.
The next day at noon, Jiang Hai returned for the fitting. The suit was excellent—comfortable, breathable, and perfectly tailored, though the old man still saw room for improvement.
While the final touches were made, Jiang Hai went shopping for accessories. The shirt was a gift from the shop, but he bought a tie, belt, and shoes himself. The shoes—made of crocodile leather—were from Lanfanze, reportedly the best on Fifth Avenue, though not nearly as comfortable as his outdoor gear. The belt and tie were from Donkey, another top-tier brand.
When Jiang Hai put on the full ensemble—tailored suit, silk tie, leather shoes, striped shirt, and his Patek Philippe watch—he looked every bit the billionaire, though he still preferred his usual clothes.
After paying the remaining balance, he returned to the Hilton. Traffic was heavy, and by the time he arrived, only thirty minutes remained before the banquet.
The hotel was heavily guarded—just as Jiang Hai expected for a Walton family event. Once inside, he presented his invitation, passed security, and was led to the main banquet hall.
There were already two to three hundred guests inside, half of them women—many young, elegantly dressed, and clearly on the hunt. These, Jiang Hai knew, were the legendary socialites—women who paid dearly to get in and now scanned the crowd for wealthy prospects.
When Jiang Hai entered, many glanced his way—then turned away. He didn't look rich. But those with a keener eye took notice: a $90,000 suit, $10,000 tie, $20,000 belt, $30,000 shoes, and a luxury watch. That was the real deal.
Just as several women prepared to approach him, Jiang Hai, scanning the crowd, finally spotted the person he was looking for.
He grinned—and headed straight over.
To be continued...