In the airport corridor, Reeves strode ahead.

Frank hurried after him, reporting in a low voice, "Chairman, the preliminary land acquisition for the Hudson River waterfront renovation project recently led by the Thorne Group has been completed, and the team is currently refining the final plan. Financing for the Brooklyn Old Dock Smart Storage Center is proceeding smoothly, with several European pension funds confirming their participation. Pre-sale qualification approval for high-end residential properties on Central Park South has also been approved... All of this awaits your final decision."

Reeves didn't stop, but just uttered a short "hmm".

He got straight into the back seat of the leading Maybach.

Frank also quickly sat in the passenger seat, and the convoy started silently and merged into the New York traffic.

In the top-floor office of the Thorne Group's skyscraper, Ribbs sat behind a huge ebony desk, while Frank stood beside it, handing him documents.

These "mundane" matters were like filling in the blanks for him. He would just glance at the project overview and quickly sign his name.

"Okay, let's do it!" Ribbs threw the gold-rimmed Bonham fountain pen on the table and said, "I didn't come to New York to deal with these trivial matters..."

"Of course, Mr. Speaker," Frank replied flatteringly. Then, he took a deep breath and lowered his voice: "There's another... really important thing I want to report to you! Speaker, while you were away in Chicago, I received a special invitation!"

Ribs, who had been leaning lazily on the back of his chair, leaned forward slightly, his eyebrows raised: "Oh? What invitation?"

Frank lowered his voice mysteriously. "It's from Mr. William Hamilton, the contact person for the Nightingale Club."

Nightingale Club.

Ribs had heard of the name before, even as far away as Chicago.

It is an extremely secretive private club with astonishingly high entry barriers in the top circles of the East Coast, especially in New York.

Rumor has it that its membership itself represents a pass to the world's top power and resource networks.

Without exception, all of its members are real tycoons who control their respective fields and even the lifeline of the country - energy oligarchs, multinational financial giants, heads of old money families passed down from generation to generation, and even invisible giants who stir up the political situation behind the scenes.

Exchange resources, rewrite business rules in a casual manner, and even influence the international situation.

Ribs knows very well that this is the core gameplay of this type of club.

"Mr. Hamilton is the Chairman of the Nightingale Club's Outreach Committee and a 'shadow' tycoon in the traditional media and publishing industries," Frank explained with a hint of barely perceptible awe. "He personally sent you a special invitation, inviting you to join the club as a 'highly-regarded Chicago tycoon' and 'New York upstart', and to attend the small welcome dinner being held at the club this week."

The so-called dinner party is nothing more than a social cloak carefully woven by power and capital.

"William Hamilton?" Ribbs repeated the name, his eyes flicking sharply at Frank. "What did he say?"

"Mr. Speaker, the Nightingale Club's entry threshold requires a net worth of tens of billions of dollars..." Frank replied, observing Reeves' expression. "Mr. Hamilton's exact words were: Speaker Reeves is already the de facto ruler of Chicago. His influence and potential for expansion far exceed the value represented by the numbers themselves. The rapid development of the Black Rabbit Security branch in New York also proves his ability. It's only a matter of time before his net worth reaches tens of billions. Therefore, the Nightingale Club's board of directors has decided to make an exception and extend an invitation to Mr. Reeves in advance. We hope you will join... this circle of true friends."

After saying that, Frank took out a pure black envelope from his briefcase. The envelope was made of extremely thick material and was cold to the touch. He handed it to Li Bushu.

There was no text on the envelope, only a silhouette of a nightingale outlined in platinum.

Reeves did not take the envelope immediately. He leaned back in the wide chair, staring calmly at the letter that symbolized the admission ticket to the top circle, as if weighing the weight hidden behind it.

Now, Reeves' assets are only about 10 billion US dollars. In this Nightingale Club, I am afraid he has not even reached the most low-key threshold.

Joining this kind of club? The benefits are self-evident.

It provides not only opportunities for cooperation, but also a fast track to the world's truly top core circle - the people who can be contacted are incomparable to those local council members, mayors, and even the governor of Chicago.

What about the potential risks? Equally huge.

Once you are deeply involved in it, your every move will be scrutinized by countless more experienced eyes, and any weakness will be magnified and exploited.

Moreover, in front of these old foxes, what are his cards and tricks in this jungle?

But not going? That's even more impossible.

The Nightingale Club's exceptional invitation itself represents an extremely high recognition that goes beyond paper assets, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

To reject it is to exclude oneself from the world's highest social circles.

For the ambitious Ribs, there is no dumber choice than this.

After a moment's silence, Ribbs slowly reached out his hand, accurately pinched the edge of the black letter with two fingers, and pulled it out of Frank's hand.

"Chicago tycoon? New York upstart?" He muttered the words, a playful smile playing on his lips. He tore open the envelope with unhurried movements. Inside was a black card made of the same material, with a single line of elegant, flowing English calligraphy on it.

There was no exaggerated typography, no unnecessary signatures, only the Nightingale Club logo and an encrypted short code for reply only.

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