Chapter 42: Who is Mr. Lopez?

"Since the drinking game has ended, what will you do next?"

Those words echoed like a devil's curse—chilling Chris to the bone.

Especially now, with John standing directly in front of him, his cold, dark eyes boring into him like twin voids from the deepest pits of hell.

Chris was paralyzed by fear.

What kind of monster had he provoked?

Meanwhile—

Julian, swaying drunkenly, slurred through trembling lips before losing consciousness, "Mr. Lopez… I'm sorry…"

And then—he collapsed.

Chris, following in his father's footsteps, dropped to his knees and kowtowed over and over again.

He didn't know why his father was so terrified of John.

But even without knowing, Chris was completely consumed by John's overwhelming aura. Sometimes, fear wasn't just personal—it was infectious.

Inside the private room, no one dared to breathe too loudly. All eyes watched in silent disbelief as Chris continued kowtowing until he passed out, his head resting against Julian's in a grotesque sort of unity.

Both of them now knelt in submission.

Suddenly—

"What's going on in here?! Who dares cause trouble in my Hundred Flavors Restaurant?!"

A deep, commanding voice rang out from the hallway, and a moment later, a group of bodyguards in black stormed into the room.

"Mr. Wodehouse! It's him! That bastard right there! He wrecked the room and assaulted your esteemed guests! Arrest him and beat him to death!"

It was Ada, frantic and breathless. Maybe fear had pushed her past the edge, or maybe she was simply insane. Either way, after a quick breath, she charged toward the doorway and pointed accusingly at John.

The middle-aged man—Mr. Wodehouse—froze. "Who are you?"

"I'm Ada! Mr. Wodehouse, don't you remember? We had… dealings before—"

"Shut your mouth!"

The man barked the command, cutting her off sharply.

Of course, he remembered her.

Roughly half a month ago, he'd visited a nightclub to relieve some boredom and spotted Ada dancing. While her looks were average, youth and makeup gave her an edge. Add in a tight outfit and seductive moves, and she caught his eye immediately.

He'd approached her. She responded. Flattery turned into flirting, and before long, he'd taken her home. She'd used the encounter to her full advantage—and profited handsomely.

Now, seeing her again, he interrupted her not out of shame, but out of caution. He didn't want their private dealings spoken aloud, especially in this crowd.

Still, as the owner of the restaurant, he couldn't appear indifferent while someone was creating chaos in his establishment. He needed to uphold his reputation—either defend Ada or reinforce the authority of Hundred Flavors Restaurant.

Someone had to be punished tonight.

He stormed into the private room, face stern.

Ada pointed at John again, her voice practically hissing, "It's him! Look at what he did to your private room! He even knocked out two of your VIPs!"

Before Wodehouse could respond, his bodyguards had already surged toward John.

John barely glanced at the middle-aged man, his voice calm and cold, "I had some business to handle. Do you have a problem with that?"

Wodehouse's face drained of all color.

His knees almost buckled.

Oh my God… no… it can't be him…

He recognized John instantly.

This was the young man who, during the Queenie Group's product launch, had forced an entire battalion of media reporters to kneel and apologize—publicly.

Most terrifying of all—

He was rumored to be the brother-in-law of the King of Horizon.

What kind of terrifying lineage was that?!

But his bodyguards were oblivious to the danger.

The captain stepped forward and growled, "How dare you talk to our boss like that? Believe it or not, I'll—"

SLAP!

Before he could finish, Wodehouse himself rushed forward and delivered a resounding slap to his face.

Then, without pause, he bowed low before John.

"I—I'm so sorry, Mr. Lopez. He didn't know any better. Please forgive the interruption!"

Gasps filled the room.

This man—this was George Wodehouse, the head of the powerful Wodehouse family, the same man who had issued a billion-dollar contract to Queenie Group not long ago.

And now he was bowing—bowing—to John Lopez.

The Hundred Flavors Restaurant belonged to his family.

Everyone present was stunned into silence.

Especially the group of young nurses who had come to celebrate Chris's birthday. They had already been shocked when Julian fell to his knees in terror, but now—

Even the owner of the restaurant was groveling?

Who exactly was this Mr. Lopez?!

Some of the nurses clutched their chests, breaths short and sharp, as though a monstrous wave had just crashed into their worldviews.

Ada, too, was dumbstruck. She stammered, "Mr… Mr. Wodehouse, you must be mistaken. That guy is just a—"

BANG!

George kicked her hard, knocking her to the floor.

"Damn it! How dare you be disrespectful to Mr. Lopez?! Slap her! Strip her! Drag her out into the street!" he shouted furiously.

"Yes, sir!"

Ada screamed as she was seized and dragged away, her voice fading into the hallway. Even in the end, she had no idea who she had insulted.

George turned back to John with a bright, apologetic smile. "Mr. Lopez, if you ever need to deal with trash like this, just leave it to me. There's no need to dirty your own hands."

John's gaze remained frosty. "If I had left it to you… would my sister still be standing here unharmed?"

George's heart clenched in fear.

His sister…?

He looked around anxiously. Among the many girls in the room, most were trembling in fear—but only one stood calmly: Tracy.

George rushed over and bowed deeply. "Miss, I apologize sincerely!"

There was no doubt. She was the one.

No fear. No panic. Completely composed. That's how one could tell she had powerful backing.

Turning back to John, George bowed even deeper. "Mr. Lopez, to express my deepest regret, I offer you the Hundred Flavors Restaurant. It's yours, if you'll accept it."

The entire room erupted in disbelief.

This restaurant was a key asset of the Wodehouse family. How could he just give it away like that?

Who the hell was Mr. Lopez?

And yet, John merely waved a hand, his voice dispassionate.

"I'm not interested."