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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
Chapter 233: Husband Of The Year
That word—“husband”—annoyed Anastacia to the brim. But she still maintained a calm demeanor and tried to keep her cool. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her break down, not now, not ever. She took a controlled breath, fingers curling beneath the table as her painted nails pressed lightly into her palm. She could already feel the judgment thickening in the air like perfume—too sweet, too suffocating. This was the part about this sham marriage that she had dreaded the most—when her friends and the influential people she knew would eventually find out about Andrew. She had rehearsed a dozen versions of this day in her mind, prayed it would stay in the realm of speculation until the quiet, discreet divorce. But now, here it was, thrown on the table like some scandalous appetizer. Eyes were watching. Ears were tuned in. Her armor had to stay intact, flawless, as always. They wouldn’t see her sweat.She had been friends with this group since high school, but deep down she
Chapter 232 : Recognized
“C’mon, it’s not possible that you would know someone like that,” Paul said, his voice edged with disdain as he leaned closer to Dorothy. He lifted his wine glass lazily, swirling the golden liquid inside without taking a sip. His gaze flicked briefly toward the direction Andrew had gone. They had all watched the brief incident that had unfolded between Mirian and Andrew. None of them had commented at first, but their eyes had said enough— even if Andrew wasn't a waiter as Mirain had mistaken him for , he didn't seem far from that .But there was a question lingering through their mind "How did he get a vip pass ? “Who knows, he might have gotten a free invite or something,” Paul said out loud as he smiled without warmth, clearly amused by the idea that someone dressed like that could be allowed in a place like this.“Paul is right. Where do you think you could possibly know someone like that?” Mirian asked dismissively , her voice laced with disdain .Dorothy looked over to Andr
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