I stared intently at Hillary, desperately hoping to see even the slightest hint of hesitation or reluctance on her face.

But I found nothing.

She even urged me impatiently, "Hurry up, Lucas. Stop dawdling."

For a moment, I felt dazed.

Back in high school, Shane had led the whole class in isolating me. He'd corner me in the restroom and beat me up whenever he felt like it.

Once, Hillary had burst in, kicked aside the people blocking the door, and pulled my bruised, battered self behind her.

"He's mine," she declared to everyone there. "From now on, whoever dares touch him has to get through me first!"

Sunlight streamed in from behind her, making her look like a radiant warrior princess. But now, my warrior princess was linking arms with the very bully from back then, forcing me to bark like a dog in front of everyone.

Humiliated, I let out a few pitiful barks. "Woof… Woof…"

Shane held up his phone, laughing hysterically, capturing the entire shameful scene. He then casually tossed my watch into a corner trash can that was filled with spilled drinks and filth. It landed with a dull thud.

He smacked his forehead in feigned surprise.

"I was going to give it to the beggar at the door, but it looks like even the watch knows it's trash and jumped in by itself."

His words were clearly loaded.

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, barely managing to hold onto my sanity.

"Keep going," I said.

"Enough, Lucas! What else do you even have? Don't make a fool of yourself here," Hillary snapped, her tone full of disapproval and disgust.

I ignored her.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out my car keys, and slammed them down on the table.

"This car, huh? There's a story there too… I've had a lot of fun with Hil in it. To be honest, the inside of that car's quite small, though."

His wording was subtle, but we were all adults here. Everyone understood what he was implying.

Blood rushed straight to my head, and I roared, "What the hell do you mean by that?"

Seeing my stormy expression, Shane slowly explained, "I meant just playing and joking around. Where did your mind go, Lucas?"

An odd look flickered across Hillary's face.

"Why are you yelling, Lucas? You startled Shane," she snapped.

Without even realizing it, her right hand rubbed the hem of her shirt. That was a telltale gesture she always made when she was nervous or lying.

No wonder she always came up with every excuse possible to avoid sleeping with me. As it turned out, she'd already gotten her fill elsewhere.

A few classmates, remaining neutral, patted my shoulder and tried to persuade me.

"Come on, Lucas. Don't play anymore. Shane has Hillary helping him, so you can't win. Don't make this any uglier."

I shook my head firmly.

"I'm continuing."

Shane scoffed, looking disdainfully at the car keys.

"I have no interest in this junk of a car. Let's go big.

"If I win, you take your dying mother and put her out of her misery right then and there. How about that?"

The room plunged into deadly silence at his suggestion.

Even a flicker of hesitation crossed Hillary's face, but she merely clenched Shane's hand tightly, not saying a word.

Her silence was consent.

In that moment, I no longer felt anger—only an icy chill spreading through my entire body.

I took a deep breath. "Fine."

I paused, then lifted my eyes to meet Shane's arrogant gaze.

"And if I win, you take your son with leukemia and put him out of his misery too," I added.

"Lucas Murray! Have you lost your mind?" Hillary shot to her feet, her face full of fury. "That's a human life! How can you be so cruel to a child?"

Just seconds ago, Shane had used my mother's life as a wager, and Hillary hadn't said a word. Now, when I retaliated in kind, she exploded in rage.

What? Was Mom's life not a life?

At the end of the day, neither Mom nor I had ever mattered to her. The last shred of hope in my heart was completely extinguished.

Instead, all I felt was a clarity I'd never experienced before.

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.