Phelps's expression twisted into something downright ugly.
It was actually true.
Everything that bitch had said was true.
The Organizing Committee really had granted her a special exemption.
The Skyline Seven-Star Hotel had passed the highest level of official authorization.
It was entirely compliant, completely bulletproof.
The hotel was now the official, exclusive preparation ground for this year's tournament.
Phelps gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as his veins bulged.
When he finally pulled up to the Skyline Seven-Star Hotel, he parked and looked up.
Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, he could see the brightly lit lobby and banquet hall.
He could clearly see the lively scene inside.
The Elyndorian team was sitting together, laughing, eating, chatting, and raising their glasses in celebration.
Laughter echoed constantly; the atmosphere was incredibly warm.
These were the Elyndorians who were supposed to keep their heads down in Severia, the ones he was supposed to humiliate and crush. Yet here they were, partying in the most luxurious, top-tier hotel in the country.
The specific competitors who had clashed with him at the airport were laughing the loudest.
And here he was, the young master of the Prescott family, standing outside like a pathetic joke.
His face pale with rage, Phelps marched toward the entrance.
Before he could even step through the doors, a security guard stepped into his path. "Apologies, Mr. Prescott."
"The Skyline Group has officially placed all members of the Prescott family on a permanent blacklist. By order of Chairman Moore, no Prescott is allowed entry into any Skyline property for the rest of their lives."
"Please leave."
The words hit him like a physical blow.
Phelps felt his face burn, as if he had just been slapped across the cheek again.
His gaze turned somber. "You dare stop me?"
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