Chapter 3

At seven o’clock that night, the outside of the Claude Hotel in Harbor City was brightly lit.

I stepped through the revolving doors in ten-inch stilettos.

The fitted red dress wrapped around my curves, and the slit in the skirt showed off my long legs as I walked.

A lot of eyes in the lobby turned toward me.

I walked straight to the elevator.

My phone kept vibrating inside my clutch.

I took it out and glanced at it. The Discord channel had already switched to live-stream mode.

Luke held up his phone at the entrance to the ballroom, a smile on his lips.

"Guys, it’s seven fifteen. Chloe, the 300-pound girl, still hasn’t shown up."

"Tyler, your thousand bucks is basically guaranteed."

The camera shifted and landed on Tyler, who was dressed in a custom tuxedo.

He was holding champagne, and Serena, in a white sequined fishtail gown, stood beside him.

Serena was clinging to his arm affectionately.

"Tyler, you’re such a jerk. Chloe must be hiding in some motel somewhere, too scared to come out."

Tyler took a sip of wine, a smug smile hanging at the corner of his mouth.

"I already tried my best to talk her out of it. She insisted on placing the bet herself. If she can’t even handle this much pressure, how is she supposed to survive in Harbor City?"

Laughter broke out behind them in agreement.

Just then, the elevator doors opened.

I put away my phone and stepped out. At the end of the hallway was the sign-in desk for the ballroom.

Several fraternity freshmen were checking names against the list.

I walked over and gave my name.

"Chloe."

The freshman in charge of registration was a chubby guy wearing glasses. When he heard my name, he jerked his head up.

His gaze swept over my face and the red dress several times, and the pen in his hand dropped straight onto the table.

"You... are Chloe?"

He stammered so badly he could barely get the words out.

"Is there a registration record?"

My tone was calm.

"Yes, there is, but..."

He swallowed hard. "Tonight your escort is Chairman Julian. You’ll need to wait for him to bring you in."

Julian.

The ice-cold chairman who had never spoken in the channel flashed through my mind.

So the King of Spades in last night’s draw was him in the end.

"Where is he?"

"On the terrace."

The freshman pointed to a glass door on the side of the hallway.

I turned around, pushed open the glass door, and walked outside.

The terrace had no main lights on, only wall lamps casting a faint glow.

A man in a black bespoke suit stood with his back to me at the railing.

The night wind blew past, bringing a cool cedar scent.

Hearing the sound of high heels, he turned around, revealing a refined face.

His features were deep and sharp, and his brows and eyes carried a coldness that kept people at a distance.

His gaze landed on me, without any cheap appraisal, only curiosity.

"Wrong place?"

His voice was low.

"No."

I walked toward him and met his gaze. "I’m Chloe. I heard you drew the King of Spades."