Chapter 790 Lost, Questioned!

Chapter 790 Lost, Questioned!

"Simon, I may be just a hired hand here, but I represent Neon Lounge — and our reputation means everything. Even if you're with the Long family, you don't get to drag my name through the mud."

The manager spoke with firm conviction, then unfolded both slips of paper on the spot. "These notes were handed to me in front of everyone in this room. One says 15 — that's yours. The other says 16 — that's Emily's. Anyone's welcome to verify."

He held the slips up and turned them slowly, making sure as many people as possible could see.

Among the crowd, those who had bet on Emily stirred with excitement.

"I knew it — anyone brave enough to take on a challenge like that has got to have something up her sleeve."

The person who said it ducked back into the crowd the moment the words left his mouth, making himself scarce before Simon could pick out who'd spoken.

Simon could feel every eye in the room on him. He was furious, but pride wouldn't let him show it.

"You just got lucky. I was taking it easy on you — I told you I'd spot you a round. Fine, I'll take it off. Not like it's any skin off my back."

He shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and dropped it aside, leaving just his short-sleeve shirt underneath.

And really, stripping down to a tee wasn't much of a loss for someone built like him.

So after he tossed the jacket, he made a slow, deliberate circle right in front of Emily — pure provocation. "There. I held up my end of the deal. Wipe that smug look off your face."

Emily acted like she hadn't seen any of it and turned straight to the manager. "Let's go ahead and start round two."

Simon cut her off before she could get another word in. "Round one was a guessing game. Running it back the same way would be pretty boring, don't you think?"

Emily didn't push back. She just followed his lead. "Then what did you have in mind?"

"Each of us rolls dice. Highest combined total wins. Sound good?"

Now that was his turf.

He still believed Emily had just gotten lucky in round one — but he wasn't about to take any chances.

And just to make sure she couldn't say no, he added, almost as an afterthought, "The contract we signed doesn't say anything about changing up the rules."

He'd already planned his next move: if she tried to refuse, he'd tell everyone she was too scared to play.

But Emily just smiled. "Fine by me."

That snapped Ollie out of the daze she'd been in ever since Emily won the first round — and sent her straight back into a low-grade panic.

Not quite as bad as the first time, but still.

She reached over and tugged quietly at Kaia's sleeve. "Qian-jie," she whispered, keeping her voice low, "you knew Emily was going to win just now — you've seen what she can do before, right? Round two — have you seen this too? She can pull it off again, can't she?"

Kaia rolled her eyes. "Relax. It's Emily."

She'd seen Emily do far more impressive things than this.

Not far behind the two of them, Ace had already made his way over. His height gave him a clean line of sight over the crowd and straight to the center of the room — close enough to catch Kaia and Ollie's exchange.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a slow, knowing smile.

The manager, seated at the center table, swept a quick glance around the room — and the moment his eyes landed on Ace, his body instinctively started to rise, his mouth falling open like he was half a second from calling out.

Ace stopped him with a single downward press of his hand, then brought a finger to his lips.

The manager settled back into his chair like nothing had happened and announced the start of round two.

Ace watched the scene unfold while pulling out his phone.

[Daniel, I'm here. Emily's good. And — she's something else. Took round one without even breaking a sweat. Cool as you like. Round two's starting now. Seriously, what's her background? The way she handles this stuff... you're not telling me she used to do this for a living, are you?]

Daniel was on the other side of the camera, his gaze locked on Emily.

Her composure. Her quiet confidence. The way she held the entire room in the palm of her hand.

He felt a warmth spread through his chest — and before he realized it, he was smiling right along with her.

He saw Ace's message. The smile deepened.

His reply was short, and just a little smug.

[She can do a lot more than this. For her, this is just messing around. Keep her safe.]

Reading it, Ace could practically picture the look on Daniel's face — that particular shade of pride that crept in whenever Emily came up. He let out a quiet, disbelieving breath.

Just how good is she, that she can get Daniel talking like that?

Seriously —

Before Ace could finish the thought, both Emily and Simon had already rolled.

"Reveal," the manager called.

Half the room craned their necks forward as the two of them lifted their cups at the same time.

"Am I seeing that right? Six sixes. Is that luck, or can she just roll whatever she wants?"

"There's only so much luck can cover. Sure, maybe round one was a fluke — but nobody rolls six sixes on demand. You play this stuff all the time. Have you ever pulled that off once?"

Someone nearby couldn't help themselves.

The whole crowd heard it.

The disbelief on people's faces shifted — to awe, and for some, a particular sting of regret. They'd all put their money on Simon.

Simon's eyes went wide. His jaw tightened until a vein flickered at his temple.

"She cheated."

It wasn't Simon who said it.

But it might as well have been — whoever spoke had read the room, and saved him the trouble of saying it himself. If Simon had made the accusation, it would've looked like a sore loser throwing a fit.

So it was the woman at Simon's side who stepped forward, pointing straight at Emily.

Somehow, when a woman made the accusation, people seemed more willing to let it slide.

Emily wasn't interested in letting it slide.

"Oh?" Her voice dropped, sharp and cold. "Your meal ticket just lost, and now you're out here doing his talking for him — scared he won't keep the lights on? If you want to question it, question it properly. Call for a full inspection. But if nothing turns up, your 'generous sponsor' owes me a public apology and an admission that he can't handle losing. That's the only reason anyone would say something like that."

"I — I'm just asking questions. She's supposed to be nobody, so how does she keep pulling this off? Is it wrong to wonder?"

The woman's face had gone blotchy.

She'd never intended to say something that would come back on her like this. She'd figured she'd voice the suspicion, stir a little agreement in the crowd, and that would be that.

She genuinely couldn't do what Emily had done — so on some level, she'd assumed Emily couldn't either. That was just logic, wasn't it?

And even if she was wrong, what was the worst that could happen? No real punishment — and maybe she'd score a few points with Simon while she was at it.

It was the kind of thinking that never quite made it onto the right side of things — calculating, opportunistic, always looking for an angle — just never pointed anywhere worth going.

Emily's expression shifted.

The softness left her eyes all at once. The air around her changed — a quiet, controlled pressure, the kind that didn't need volume to land. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't have to.

"Who exactly do you think you are, talking to me like that? This is between me and Simon — a clean, fair match. What gives you the right to come in here running your mouth?"

The words were aimed at the woman.

But everyone heard the second message underneath them — aimed squarely at Simon.

Even if the woman had acted on her own, Simon had stood right there and let her speak. Silence was its own answer.

Nobody in the room was dense enough to miss it.

Simon's expression curdled. He'd been seen through — and he knew it — and that was its own kind of humiliation. He couldn't stay quiet this time.

"Reasonable doubt. I'm calling for an inspection."

It wasn't a suggestion. It came out flat, like a decision already made.

His eyes were fixed on Emily, unblinking.

For a moment, the air between them went absolutely still — tight with something just shy of open hostility.