The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 233

Another round, and Zebulon lost again.

The crowd started chanting, “Take it off! Take it off!”

Zebulon’s face was beet red. He looked down at the last remaining piece of clothing he had on and instinctively covered himself. Then he looked at the other players, all fully dressed. Theodore, sitting across from him, hadn’t lost a single hand.

This… this wasn’t right!

“You… you guys are cheating!” Zebulon blurted out, his voice filled with frustration.

The accusation hung in the air, and the lively atmosphere instantly went cold.

Michael frowned. “Zebulon, you were the one who insisted on joining us. We didn’t force you to play, did we?”

Zebulon’s jaw was tight, unable to form a reply.

“When you kept losing and it came down to your last piece of clothing, I told you to quit. Did you listen?”

Zebulon was speechless.

Michael sneered. “Losing and then throwing accusations around? What kind of pathetic move is that?”

“I…”

“You’re a grown man, but your word means nothing. If you can’t handle losing, then don’t play!”

The words were harsh, humiliating. Zebulon felt every eye on him—scornful, dismissive, mocking. Even the wind seemed to be against him, sending one cold gust after another, making him shiver.

Click.

Across the table, Theodore lit a cigarette. He kept his eyes downcast, not even looking at him, but Zebulon felt an overwhelming sense of danger from the man. It was an almost primal fear.

“Whatever! You were cheating! I’m done!”

Zebulon threw caution to the wind. He shot up from his chair, kicked it over for dramatic effect, and grabbed his pile of clothes, storming off. The door was only a few steps away, and he quickened his pace, feeling as if danger was closing in.

“Theodore!”

Hamilton called out, as if trying to stop him from doing something.

Zebulon’s heart leaped into his throat. He felt a cold draft behind him and whipped his head around to see Theodore striding towards him, brandishing a garden hoe he’d picked up.

His face was blank, but it radiated a chilling menace. The sharp edge of the hoe glinted under the lights.

What was he going to do?

Kill him?

Zebulon scrambled backward, but his legs were weak with fear, and he stumbled, falling to the ground. In that split second, Theodore was upon him, raising the hoe high.

“Chop.”

“Mr. Stapleton…”

“Chop!”

Zebulon flinched, and tears welled up in his eyes. “I was just joking! You weren’t cheating! No one was cheating!”

Theodore let out a dry laugh. “Oh, so it was just a joke.”

“Yes, just a joke.”

“Was it funny?”

“Was it… funny?”

“I think it’s funny.”

“It’s funny.”

“Then laugh!”

Zebulon forced his lips into a smile, but the expression was more painful than a grimace. Theodore took a deep drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke right in his face.