Bankrupt Husband? Actually, Hidden Gambling King

Shane swiftly pulled the enraged Hillary back into his arms and sat down again. He patted her back reassuringly while arrogantly agreeing to my wager.

"Don't be mad, Hil. There's no way he can win. Our son will be fine."

Whispers spread among the crowd.

"Take a look at the photo of Shane's son on his social media. The kid's eyes really do look like Hillary's."

"Yeah, I just remembered. Didn't Hillary go to Verdeau on a business trip for about six months four years ago? Wasn't Shane in Verdeau around the same time?"

"Now that you mention it…"

Shane's son was four years old.

That meant that when Hillary and I were discussing marriage, she and Shane had never fully broken things off.

And worse, she'd even become pregnant with his child.

What I thought was a sweet, loving romance had been nothing but a one-sided show on my part.

My heart ached like it had been ripped wide open. I wanted nothing more than to tear them to shreds right on the spot, but I held back.

"Let's start."

This round, I rolled first. A five and a six. Eleven.

Everyone turned to Shane nervously.

But he only smiled confidently and gave the dice cup a casual few shakes. Lifting the cup, he revealed two sixes. 12—boxcars.

All the strength drained out of me, and my face went deathly pale.

A few classmates approached Shane, trying to persuade him.

"Come on, just forget it, Shane. We're all classmates here. There's no need to involve someone's life."

"Yeah, gambling is one thing. Don't take it that far."

Shane ignored them completely. He pushed them aside and looked at me triumphantly.

"A bet's a bet. Don't think I don't know how much of Hil's money you spent on that old hag's medical bills!"

He waved a server over. "Go downstairs to the store and buy a bottle of pesticide."

"Lucas, you're not someone who can't admit defeat, right?" he asked, shooting me a taunting look.

I nodded stiffly.

Amid a chorus of sighs, I stubbornly demanded one more round.

"This time, I'll bet everything I have. Just one round—the winner takes all."

Hillary hissed a low warning at me, "Enough, Lucas. Stop while you can. You've really lost your mind."

There wasn't a shred of concern in her tone, only disgust and impatience.

Shane burst into arrogant laughter.

"What else do you even have left? Your worthless life?"

I raised my hand and pointed straight at Hillary sitting next to him.

"Hillary. If I lose this round, I'll divorce her. She'll be all yours."

Hillary's face flushed crimson with rage as she snapped, "What the hell are you babbling on about, Lucas Murray?"

I stood up from my seat and challenged Shane, "Do you have the guts? Just one round. If I win, I want back everything that was lost earlier, plus another three million dollars."

My bloodshot eyes made everyone think I'd completely lost my mind in the heat of gambling.

Shane pulled Hillary—who was still trying to talk to me out of it—into his arms again. His face was practically beaming with excitement.

"Alright. It's a deal!"

He eagerly reached for the dice cup, only for a fair hand to land firmly on it—Hillary's.

She stared intently at me, her gaze shooting daggers.

"I'll play on his behalf this round. I won't let you win, Lucas."

I gave an unbothered smile, ignoring the sharp, throbbing pain stabbing through my chest.

To everyone watching, it appeared as if Hillary had completely crushed my spirit, and I'd already given up.

She revealed her dice first. Two sixes—another boxcars.

The crowd gasped in awe.

"She's got it in the bag! Hillary's amazing!"

"Boxcars! As expected of a national player! She's on another level!"

Shane leaned in and kissed her on the cheek smugly, then turned to look at me as if I were a dead man walking.

Right then, the classmate sitting closest to me let out a startled cry.

"Quick, look! What is that?"

Everyone's eyes instantly snapped toward me.