?Chapter 721:


    Hell responded without hesitation, his voice cool and firm, “Yes.” At his words, Corrine lifted her eyes, meeting his unflinching gaze from across the table.


    Hell sat there, wearing a white suit that draped over him like a king’s cloak, exuding an air of sophistication and ancient nobility, as if plucked from the pages of history. His shirt cor was left slightly undone, giving a glimpse of the smooth curve of his corbone as he slouchedfortably in his chair, like a lion lounging in the sun after a long hunt.


    His features were sharply defined, as though carved by the gods themselves—each motion adding to the raw maism of his face. Yet, the fierce, almost predatory gleam in his eyes stood in stark contrast to his regal appearance.


    In that moment, a thought flickered in Corrine’s mind. Hell was like a lion—born to lead, but weathered by the storms of life. But then another thought came to her. Perhaps Hell was a creature of pure instinct, as savage and bloodthirsty as the wild itself.


    Hell’s eyes caught the faintest hint of a smile in Corrine’s, and his lips twitched into a knowing grin. “Miss Hond,” he teased, his voice dripping with curiosity, “you seem so certain of victory.”


    Corrine allowed her thoughts to settle, offering him a casual nce before turning to the dealer. “Deal the card.”


    Hell’s gaze lingered on her, sharp and calcting. “Miss Hond, remember, luck doesn’t always y favorites.”


    His eyes sparkled with a challenge, his words carrying weight as they hung in the air.


    Corrine took her card but didn’t rush to look at it. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. Her lips curled into a confident, teasing smile. “Perhaps Lady Luck is always on my side?” The lights above flickered momentarily, casting a dramatic glow that entuated the striking features of Corrine’s face.


    Her beauty was untamed, bold—she wore it like armor, unapologetically radiant. Hell watched her for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. “Well then, let’s see the cards.”


    As his words settled over the room, silence descended, heavy with anticipation. All eyes were on the unfolding game, each breath held in suspense.


    “I’ll go first to show my sincerity,” Hell dered, revealing his cards. ckjack.


    A collective gasp echoed through the room, followed by whispers of disbelief.


    “Mr. Martel’s luck is unbelievable!” someone murmured.


    “They say he never loses… and it seems the rumors are true,” another voice added.


    “Poor woman,” someone else said, shaking his head in sympathy. “If she loses, falling into Mr. Martel’s hands won’t bode well.”


    “Mr. Martel is no ordinary man. He’s known for his generosity, yes, but also for his ruthless methods,” came another voice, tinged with fear.


    The murmurs were filled with pity for Corrine, their gazes heavy with judgment and sympathy. Yet, Corrine remained as still as a statue, her expression an enigma that revealed nothing of her thoughts or emotions. The crowd couldn’t help but wonder: what did her cards hold?


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