The Psychotic Girl’s Revenge

Rafael was continually courted by various major conglomerates but ultimately chose to stay with Jaden.

The company named “Artisans” quickly evolved into a diversified group and, amidst fierce competition among conglomerates, acquired its own port, beginning its expansion overseas.

**The Third Year**

The Gustin Group’s influence had been entirely overshadowed by the rise of several other major conglomerates. Though it still existed, it was no longer the dominant force it once was, like a mountain whose peak had been leveled.

Amidst the many powerful conglomerates and large corporations, the “Artisans” group, despite lacking its own bank, had woven a vast network across The Capital, becoming a force to be reckoned with.

At the end of the year, the real president behind the Artisans group finally made an appearance: Rachel, the third daughter of the Gustin family, who had disappeared from The Capital years ago. This revelation sent shockwaves through The Capital.

In that same year, on a night heavy with fireflies, the Gustin Group estate was ambushed. By the time Jaden received the news and dispatched reinforcements, it was too late.NôvelDrama.Org owns all content.

After years of confinement, Jeremy and Leah were finally free.

With Jeremy, a former financial tycoon, now in charge, the Artisans group showed signs of evolving into a full-fledged conglomerate. It became clear to everyone that as one Gustin Group conglomerate fell, another was poised to rise…

It seemed that nothing in this world was eternal-not people, and not even conglomerates.

**September**

The nights in The Capital were still filled with bright lights, bustling with noise and energy.

A bar named “Pinnacle,” with branches all over the country, had become a popular destination for wealthy heirs and heiresses. With its palatial red doors, the bar attracted young socialites eager to spend their money.

As the grand doors opened, a young man walked in. He wore a flashy suit that glittered with a pearlescent sheen. His shirt collar was wide open, with a tie loosely hanging around his neck. His silver hair, styled in a non-mainstream fashion, gave his otherwise handsome features a roguish air-he looked born to be in a bar.

Behind the man trailed several subordinates as he swaggered into the bar, where the music was pounding, and the lights were wild.

“Nick.”

“Nick.”

Everyone inside lowered their heads in greeting when they saw him.

Nick ignored them, his face sour, as he strode deeper into the bar. A manager hurried over, anxiously reporting, “Nick, Bryce is here again.”

The bar was so noisy that even shouting made their conversation sound like a whisper.

“That Bryce, he’s such a pain,” Nick cursed, quickly heading upstairs and pushing open the door to a private room.

The moment he opened the door, Nick’s face transformed into one of fawning obsequiousness as he approached the man lounging on the sofa inside. “Bryce, why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I would have had someone at the door to welcome you.”

The man on the sofa, dressed in expensive attire, was none other than Bryce, the second son of the Truette family, now a prominent figure in The Capital thanks to the Truette Group.

Bryce, in his thirties, sat there with one leg crossed over the other, exuding arrogance, surrounded by a number of bodyguards. When Nick entered, Bryce sneered and said disdainfully, “Enough, Nick. This is the last time I’m asking you nicely-are you selling this bar or not?”

Bryce was a playboy, known for his hedonistic lifestyle. After being chastised by his father for his lack of accomplishments, he came up with the idea of taking over the successful Pinnacle bar chain as both a money-making venture and a playground.

Nick, a savvy businessman, had expanded the Pinnacle bar chain nationwide in just a few years, reaping substantial profits. Bryce saw this as an opportunity to take over and reap the rewards.

“Master Bryce, let’s not talk about that just yet. Here, let me light a cigarette for you,” Nick offered, eager to please, as he took out a lighter and stepped forward.

But Bryce, who looked down on those who had climbed up from the streets, casually slapped the lighter out of Nick’s hand, not caring that the gesture sent a gust of wind across Nick’s face.

“Nick, don’t push your luck. I’m offering you a deal out of respect, but do you know who I am? I’m from the Truette family. Crushing you would be as easy as squashing an ant.”

Nick’s face stiffened as he turned away, then forced a smile and said, “I understand, I understand. For Master Bryce to take an interest in my little bar is an honor, and I should hand it over willingly. But to be honest, this bar holds special meaning for me. How about this, Master Bryce: why don’t you start a new bar, and I’ll work for you, managing it. How does that sound?”

Naturally, Nick knew that the Truette family was not to be trifled with.

Bryce’s smile turned sinister as he bit down on his cigarette. “Nick, special meaning? You mean the meaning it had when you were running with that slum fugitive? I remember-the famous Peak Club, right? A slum woman’s creation. What a joke.”

Nick had mentioned the bar’s significance before, and Bryce had gone out of his way to look into it. Finding out it had ties to a slum was laughable.

As he spoke, Bryce seemed to genuinely find it amusing, laughing loudly. His bodyguards joined in, their laughter full of scorn and disdain.

The harsh laughter echoed throughout the private room.

Nick’s ingratiating smile gradually faded as he slowly straightened up, standing tall. “Master Bryce, you can insult me, but not her.”

“Oh?” Bryce sneered at Nick’s stance. “You seem quite attached. What’s the matter? Did you sleep with that woman? Didn’t catch anything, did you?”

“Shut up!” Nick’s face twisted in anger as he lunged forward, jumping onto the coffee table and grabbing Bryce by the collar, landing a punch on him.

“You dare hit me! Do you know who I am?” Bryce roared, fighting back as the two began to brawl.

The bodyguards rushed forward to subdue Nick, one of them even pulling out a silenced gun, ready to kill the bar owner.

But Nick didn’t care about anything except hitting Bryce.

The bodyguard took aim, preparing to pull the trigger.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang as the door was thrown open, letting in the loud music from outside.

Everyone turned in shock to see a woman, about thirty years old, standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a well-fitted woman’s suit, her long hair neatly pinned up, and wore black-framed glasses, looking completely out of place in the seedy bar.

But as she stood there, taking in the chaotic scene inside, her face showed no hint of surprise. Calmly, she walked in, cradling a stack of documents in her arms, followed by several men.

She glanced at Nick, who was still fighting with Bryce, and gave a slight nod to the men behind her.

Without hesitation, they rushed forward, swiftly disarming Bryce’s bodyguards and pinning them to the ground.

These bodyguards, usually well-trained, found themselves completely overpowered, unable to resist.

Bryce was pushed back onto the sofa, utterly bewildered, with no idea what had just happened.