Debbie still felt this place couldn't hold a candle to a real casino.
But aside from the card room, the club only offered stuffy, high-society activities she had no interest in.
At least Poker aligned with her interests, so she agreed without much fuss.
As soon as they walked into the card room, Debbie began scanning the space, calculating which table offered the best cover.
She had no desire to be seen. Her identity was a complicated liability she didn't want to explain.
More importantly, she was terrified of bumping into Old Mr. Blake.
She had seen recent photos of him online. Age hadn't softened the predatory gleam in his eyes, even after stepping down from the company.
If anything, his gaze was sharper, like a hawk looking for its prey. She was genuinely afraid of him.
Most people couldn't understand her fear.
Years ago, she had successfully seduced him, but the aftermath had taught her a brutal lesson in true ruthlessness.
She learned exactly how terrifying a man could be when he completely detached his emotions.
She had nearly lost her life in the process. That was the moment she realized that even though she carried his child, she would never be allowed to stand by his side.
He simply wouldn't permit it.
And it wasn't just a matter of not permitting it—the harder she tried to cling to him, the more determined he was to destroy her.
She had given up those naive delusions a long time ago and accepted reality.
Sabrina tried to steer them toward a highly visible table in the center of the room, but Debbie stubbornly planted herself at an obscure table tucked away in a corner, partially hidden by large potted plants.
"Debbie, isn't this spot a little too isolated? We won't be able to see anyone. This club is full of powerful executives and elites.
We might run into some familiar faces. Sitting all the way back here makes it impossible to say hello."
Debbie had zero interest in saying hello to anyone, let alone introducing herself.

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