Secret Wife, Real Billionaire

With a detached smile, Renee resumed the game.

The crowd's eyes turned to her, expecting to see anger or sadness, maybe even jealousy. But her expression showed none of these emotions, leaving them somewhat disappointed. Then something odd happened.

Ever since Marcelo started advising Vivian, Renee, who had been on a winning streak, began to lose. And she was only losing to Vivian. It was almost as if she was deliberately playing into Vivian's hands, sending her chips her way.

"Miss Hudson seems to have run out of luck," someone commented.

Vivian, clearly pleased, surveyed the chips she had won from Renee. "I win again," she declared.

"Miss, you're running low on chips," the chip attendant reminded Renee.

Everyone at the table watched Renee, almost gloating, waiting for her to show embarrassment at not having enough money.

But Renee, under their watchful gaze, did something unexpected. She reached out her right hand towards Marcelo and tilted her chin up slightly. "Mr. King, I'm out of money," she announced with confidence, as if asking for financial assistance.

Marcelo chuckled at her boldness. "Exchange my money for chips for her," he instructed the waiter.

He had been wondering how someone with Renee's skills and intelligence could keep losing to others. It appeared she was maneuvering for him to lend her money.

He wasn't annoyed. Instead, he found her actions unexpectedly charming.

The crowd was left in shock! Everyone in the room had witnessed women asking their wealthy partners for money before, but Renee's bold and assertive approach was something new to them. What was more surprising was that Marcelo willingly complied, and he seemed quite pleased about it!

Vivian's face lost its color, turning ashen. The smug expression she wore earlier vanished. It wasn't just because Marcelo indulged Renee's brazen behavior, but also because she had heard him chuckle.

Why is he so happy with Renee?!

Suddenly, Vivian felt foolish for having asked him to intervene with Renee. It seemed Renee had orchestrated this whole scenario from the start!

"You used to be a top socialite, but now look at you, Renee. How shameless,"Alma interjected, defending her friend. "You've really lost all sense of dignity after being friends with someone as bankrupt as Sarah."

At that moment, Renee set down the cards she was holding and fixed Alma with a calm, yet unnerving stare.

The room fell silent. Then, in a swift movement, Renee reached out as a waiter passed by with a tray of desserts. In a blink, she grabbed something from the tray and approached Alma. "Clang!"

of the collision

scream

holding Alma by the neck, pressed her head onto the table. The cards she had been playing were scattered and disheveled by Alma's head. She held a fork in her other hand, its sharp tines pointing menacingly at

marred by an icy coldness. Her eyes were devoid of any emotion, making her

verge of

"Renee warned, her voice

I might just do something

fork's cold tines against her neck caused Alma's heart to plummet. She swallowed

my God..."Alyssa gasped, her hand covering her

was silent, everyone too stunned to speak, taken aback by

into you,Renee? Let me go..." Alma's voice quivered, fear evident in her tone, worried that the fork might pierce

bankrupt, but you have no right,"Renee sneered. "Your family lives off what Sarah left behind.

stop this madness!" Vivian, seeing her friend in distress, snapped back to reality. She grabbed Marcelo hand, pleading for his intervention. "Marcelo, make her stop,

felt an intense

up and caught Renee's icy

eyes were fixed on

I can't make her stop. Your friend

Renee would be really

bother

said, she brought it on

not make her stop, or did

her lip. She looked at the guys

let

started to step

his hand signaling them to stop n their tracks. They willhandle it on their own,"

on their

obviously Renee

so, the

for men to step into

jealousy surged as she watched Marcelo, convinced he was

This could end badly for her Vivian

just watched Renee, unbothered. "She's aware of what