2025-08-07 23:55:20
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Chapter 239 : The Dinner
Anastacia was sitting in the living room on her laptop, fingers lazily tapping across the keyboard as she scrolled through unread emails and half-finished tasks. Her phone vibrated beside her, lighting up with Dorothy’s name. She picked up, already knowing what the call was about. Dorothy, ever the timekeeper, was calling to remind her of their monthly dinner scheduled for later that night. It was the routine dinner held by her former classmates, a tight-knit circle that had evolved into business partners over the years. They created the club to stay connected and build stronger networks, mixing social bonding with subtle business talk. Anastacia had been a part of it from the start—before her life spiraled into unwanted headlines and whispered gossip."Dorothy," she muttered under her breath and picked the call."Hey Stacia ! You didn’t forget our dinner tonight, right?"Anastacia hesitated, her fingers frozen above the keyboard. "Dorothy... I thought it was next weekend."Doroth
Chapter 238 : Brewing Disaster
Mr Devon sat in his office watching the news on the TV, the glow from the screen flickering across his stoic features. His chair leaned back slightly, his fingers lazily drumming against the armrest as if the world beyond that glowing screen barely mattered. One of his men stepped in quietly. He leaned down and whispered into Mr Devon’s ear, his voice low and careful, telling him that Dr. Jackson was looking for him. Mr Devon didn’t move much, his gaze still fixed on the news, but he tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment and told the man to let him in.Moments later, Dr. Jackson strode in, his face twisted with frustration. His arms were crossed firmly over his chest. His eyes scanned the office, darting once toward the TV but quickly shifting back to the man behind the desk. “Where are we with the plan?” Jackson asked, his voice sharp. “You said it would be set by this week or were you just bluffing about me getting revenge?” The last words came out carelessly , filled with
Chapter 237 : Game
Andrew sat down slowly, his movements deliberate. He didn’t reach for the chips, didn’t crack a joke, didn’t flash a smile. He simply looked at the table, then at the man sitting opposite him—Mr. Davidson.The air thickened with anticipation.Davidson sipped his scotch without blinking. He hadn’t expected Andrew to accept the seat. Few ever did. Even fewer walked away untouched.The other men gave each other side glances—mocking, cautious, speculative. One of them leaned back, whispering something behind a cigar, and a low chuckle followed. But even that laughter felt manufactured, tight around the edges. Nobody wanted to show too much interest. Not yet.Andrew said nothing. He picked up the cards and flipped them neatly in his hand. His eyes moved from player to player—not with suspicion, but with the distant awareness of a man reading a room, not just watching it.The game began.It wasn’t poker. It wasn’t blackjack. It was a hybrid—an exclusive design with custom rules that had evo
Chapter 236 : The Trouble continues
After Andrew got a VVIP when others couldn't get it, the tension in the room shifted. The people who had mocked him earlier fell into stunned silence, unsure whether to feel jealous, suspicious, or humiliated. The VVIP wasn’t just a place you threw money at to get into—it demanded reputation, discretion, and a certain unspoken credibility that couldn't be faked, forged, or finessed. Even those with political clout or old money had been denied that access. It required more than money to gain entrance to. You had to be someone, not just act like someone. The moment Andrew stepped through those velvet ropes with Anastacia walking beside him, a ripple of whispers swept across the main lounge. Her friends wore forced smiles, eyes burning with curiosity and contempt. They had spent years trying to gain access, and this low-life husband of hers got in like it was nothing. That was enough to bruise fragile egos and awaken deeper rivalries.There was a game going on inside the VVIP—a bet
Chapter 235 : Fake Voucher
This was the moment they had quietly longed for. They had all sat there in their pretentious designer clothes, sipping on overpriced wine they could barely afford, barely able to conceal their anticipation for the humiliation they were convinced was about to unfold.How would Anastacia’s low-life husband come up with two million dollars?The laughter was restrained, but the mockery sat boldly behind their eyes. Andrew had no pedigree, no family name, no visible wealth—just an aura they couldn’t place and manners that didn’t fit their narrative. Deep down, they wanted to see him break. They needed him to prove them right. They needed a scene.Dorothy adjusted her necklace as though preparing for a toast. Paul leaned back in his seat, arms crossed like a judge awaiting the final plea. It was subtle, but the tension in the air was begging for embarrassment. They wanted Andrew to fumble, to sweat, to pull out a debit card and have it declined.But then Andrew reached into his jacket and
Chapter 234: Guilt trip
Anastacia had no choice but to oblige her friends’ demands. She didn't want to, but saying no would raise suspicion. If Andrew had been someone influential—a man with pedigree, a last name that made heads turn—she wouldn’t have waited to be told before proudly dragging him to their table. But Andrew’s case was different. He was a nobody. Not from a notable family, not the owner of any business. Nothing about him screamed success. Just a desperate man who married her for the sake of leeching off her family’s fortune. That’s what she told herself. That’s how she justified the disgust bubbling in her chest. To her, he was a disgrace. An unwanted shadow tied to her name. Nothing more. Still, with measured steps and a hollow expression, she walked toward Andrew’s table. This was going to be unpleasant, but backing out would make it worse.She tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. “My friends want you to come join us at our table,” she said, the words sliding off her tongue with
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