“Shh, keep it down. Just look at Mr. Wilde’s face. It doesn’t matter how big a shot Mr. Mitchell is in Cadilind; he’s got to watch his back here. With all this attention, he might find himself in hot water after the game.”
Hannah clenched her fists tight.
“Hannah,” Winston said softly, calling her name.
Slowly, Hannah turned and gave him a small shake of her head, signaling him to hold back.
Winston caught the serious expression on Hannah’s face and chose to stay silent.
Meanwhile, the game at the gambling table pressed on, and Rodrigo struggled to keep his smile. He was losing to Bryson again and again, his voice tinged with annoyance.
“Mr. Mitchell, where have you been the past few days? I see now that you’ve been hiding away, scheming to defeat me at the gambling table and leave me penniless”
Bryson leaned back in his chair, playing with his cards. His fingers were slender and deft. “Do you think you can’t handle a loss?”
“How could I not afford to lose?” Rodrigo’s voice was heavy with tension. “I’ll bet anything you want.”
With a chilling grin at the edges of his lips, Bryson remarked, “Well, how about we bet a hundred million? Are you up for it or not?”
The room went silent.
ALL eyes were fixed on the gambling table, curious to see if Rodrigo would raise the stakes.
“Fine!” Rodrigo, clearly annoyed, banged his hand on the table. “Fold!”
He laid his cards out for all to see. “I don’t buy that you can keep winning.”
Bryson grinned and spread his cards on the table too. Under the crystal lamp, the black and gold cards sparkled brilliantly.
“No way! He’s so Lucky!”
“He won again! Incredible! How does he always pull it off?”
Rodrigo’s eyes blazed with fury as he glanced at the cards scattered on the table. Clenching his teeth, he burst out, “Good, very good!
Let’s have another round!”
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But Bryson just stood up, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’s no use, Rodrigo. You can’t beat me. This is getting boring.”
He started to walk away, but Rodrigo’s crew quickly encircled him and Caleb by the gambling table.
Caleb stepped up, his face a mix of anger and concern. “What’s this about? Get out of our way!”
Tossing his chips aside, Rodrigo signaled his men to back off. He stepped closer, his voice calm but edged. “It’s nothing serious. I just have a question for Mr. Mitchell. You’ve been out of sight for days. You weren’t on the ship either. Were you laying low to tend to your injury?”
His gaze lingered on Bryson, particularly around his abdomen. “If you’re in a tight spot, you can tell me. You were my boss once, after all.”