Turning Of the Tide by Diana Sander

Chapter 145

In the Lithern Club, as the music blared, the bar’s dim lights transformed into a mesmerizing display of colors, casting an enchanting glow on the faces of the attractive crowd. The dance floor exuded an irresistible air of mystery and allure.

With the rhythm of the music, the atmosphere on the dance floor reached its crescendo. The revelers gyrated and swayed, their movements infused with an ecstatic energy that intoxicated them.

Meanwhile, in a secluded and soundproofed card room upstairs, an oasis of tranquility amidst the cacophony below, three out of the four occupants leisurely puffed on their cigarettes. At the same time, one donned a mask, lending an air of paradox.

Hackett had been having a remarkable streak of luck tonight. A mountain of chips towered before him as he sported a wicked grin. “Mr. Wilson, your luck seems to have deserted you tonight. I almost feel guilty for winning so effortlessly.”

The man continued to ignore him, his mind wandering during the card game, inevitably leading to Hackett snatching victory. Thoughts of Natalie and her cold indifference plagued him, playing on a loop in his mind like an unrelenting slideshow. He yearned to press the pause button, but his chest tightened with frustration.

Despite finding Frank’s constant stream of messages utterly disdainful, he secretly engaged in the same behavior. Day after day, he persisted in sending messages and delivering meals, desperate to make his presence felt. However, that woman showed absolutely no inclination to acknowledge him. His letters vanished into thin air as if they were dropped in the ocean’s deepest depths, generating no waves of response. It was evident that he needed to adopt a different approach which was a bold confrontation.

Unbeknownst to Hackett, Trevon was engrossed in contemplating how to win back Natalie. Ignoring him only fueled Hackett’s determination. Today, he was in a good mood, and having a loving daughter seemed to bring him tremendous luck. He had never won such substantial money from Mr. Wilson before.

With a cigarette delicately held between his fingers, Frank glanced at the visibly troubled expression on Trevon’s face. “Missing Natalie, huh?”

Trevon fixed Frank with a skeptical gaze. “Do you suddenly possess the power of mind–reading, Frank?”

As for Natalie, Hackett suppressed his inner desires, opting to keep his secrets to himself.

Just as their stomachs inconveniently growled, rumbling incessantly, a sudden string of flatulence followed suit. The other three individuals simultaneously turned their gaze toward Hackett, their disgust evident on their faces, without bothering to

conceal it

Hackett had eaten a mishmash of food that day, and due to their proximity, practically anyone who took a breath could catch a whiff of an aromatic scent.

Unable to bear the odor any longer, Frank held his breath and stood up. The stench was simply unbearable, nearly making him feel nauseated. “What the hell have you been eating?” he exclaimed, feeling as if the foul fragrance permeated his very

mouth.

Trevon extended his slender fingers to cover his mouth and nose, rising from his feet with a furrowed brow. Holding his breath, he swiftly opened a window, leaning closer to inhale the fresh air, ignoring Hackett.

Jim, donning a mask, fared relatively better than the other two who were directly assaulted by the fragrance.

clutched his stomach, squeezing his buttocks, and mustered

was beyond his control. It seemed inevitable. He hurriedly went to the restroom with

three individuals had lost all interest in the card game. Trevon sternly commanded

to darken with an intense scowl. Holding his breath, he swiftly exited the room, followed closely by Frank, who couldn’t bear the situation any longer. Jim was the last to leave. The

emptied, devoid of anyone else. Being a frequent

exactly where

incessantly. It seemed another urgent matter was

cigarettes, discussing matters related to the business street. However, Jim sensed something was amiss. It had been half an hour, and

Jim asked, “Mr. Wilson, should I

an eyebrow, casting a glance at Jim “Are you planning to deliver toilet paper? Just stay put. If

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Chapter 145

let him be.” Trevon wondered if Mr. Blackwell’s luck with money was indeed that good. He

Mr. Wilson, Jim reluctantly retook his seat, silently sympathizing with Mr. Blackwell. Perhaps losing money was for the best in Mr.

screen, seeing that it was Hackett calling.

on his lips. “Tell the manager to bring anti–diarrheal

silently thanked Trevon for not sending him to check on Hackett.

entered, his legs trembling. “Do

remained unfazed, his expression calm and distant. “Should I squat

let out a suppressed laugh, unable to

undoubtedly drained due to the effects of the chili peppers. He slumped onto the nearby couch. Frank wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Take a seat on a

Hackett lay down, he had no desire to move. He was too exhausted, having made countless trips to the restroom at

tongue. “Who knows if

flung a pillow toward

be curious about what had caused this predicament. “What did you eat

Hackett to open up and vent his frustrations. “It’s all because of that woman,

piqued as they wondered what could drive someone who steered clear of spice to consume such a large

couldn’t resist adding, “Are you planning to become blood brothers with

testament?”

discontent, let out a string of profanities. “Damn it,

eyes, asked, “So you’re willingly allowing her to mess with you? Go back and entertain

the actual situation. He altered the narrative rather than revealing the truth, displaying a facade of admiration. “Isn’t it all about demonstrating our respect for Natalie? She has a