“I just don’t get it. I didn’t do anything wrong. So what if I raised the stakes? It’s not like you’re getting any less because of me.”

“Yes, you won’t take away my share, but you’ll bring me a huge amount of trouble.” William Brooks still kept a gloomy expression and said, “You’re the eldest miss of the The Foster Family, and your Uncle Smith lost four hundred thousand. He doesn’t dare do anything to you, but he dares to come after me. Do you think four hundred thousand is a small sum?”

This was the real reason William Brooks was angry.

Using Mary Foster’s father’s reputation to win two hundred thousand here, that Boss Smith would feel the pain but could still bear it. But losing four hundred thousand all at once—even if the other side didn’t dare have any bad ideas, they would definitely investigate.

Although he was a reborn person, right now he had no strength to fight anyone, especially in this era when information wasn’t very developed.

He couldn’t bring danger to himself or his family, not even potential danger.

“I… I didn’t think that much. I just trust you.” Mary Foster replied a bit weakly.

“Thank you for your trust, but unfortunately, I can’t bear the trust of a young lady like you. I just hope you’ll tell your Uncle Smith later that the four hundred thousand has nothing to do with me, and I didn’t get a single cent.”

After saying this, William Brooks pressed down the doorknob, ready to open the door and leave.

In the corridor, a cool breeze blew, clearing William Brooks’s head a bit and dissipating some of his anger. Thinking about it, this really wasn’t Mary Foster’s fault. She hadn’t shorted him the two thousand she promised; she just didn’t know there was such a thing in this world as moderation.

Everything needs moderation and a bottom line. If you go beyond that, it’s easy to bring disaster upon yourself.

At the elevator, two young thugs stood up when they saw William Brooks, putting on stern faces and asking, “What are you doing? You’re not allowed to go down before the time is up.”

This whole floor was for lottery buyers, and John Smith had set a rule: no one who came to gamble could leave before the draw was over.

As for why this rule existed, it was nothing more than to prevent anyone from snitching or running off with the money.

“My lighter’s broken. Can I borrow one from you guys?”

William Brooks found an excuse and, under the suspicious gazes of the two thugs, took a lighter and turned back the way he came.

With the lighter, he lit a cigarette. After finishing it, William Brooks returned to the room door and knocked.

“William Brooks!”

Mary Foster opened the door and, seeing William Brooks standing there, surprise flashed across her pretty face. Clearly, she hadn’t expected William Brooks to come back.

William Brooks noticed Mary Foster’s reddened eyes, which puzzled him. Had this girl just been crying?

But he hadn’t yelled at her or hit her, so what was she crying for?

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain the money situation to Uncle Smith so he won’t give you any trouble.”

Mary Foster didn’t want William Brooks to see she’d been crying. After opening the door, she coldly tossed out this sentence, then sat back down at the computer, opened Audition, and started clacking away at the keyboard.

William Brooks didn’t respond to Mary Foster’s words but sat on the bed. After a cigarette’s time, his mind had calmed down. Now he was thinking about what to do in this situation.

With Mary Foster’s assurance, Boss Smith definitely wouldn’t trouble him openly, but he couldn’t guarantee anything in secret. The main thing was, he knew Mary Foster’s father would go bankrupt in a few months. By then, Mary Foster wouldn’t even be able to protect herself, and her father would have no deterrent effect on Boss Smith.

Unless, the The Foster Family didn’t go bankrupt.

But William Brooks thought that was unlikely, because a gambler who had already bet everything would never leave the table until he’d lost all hope of a comeback.

“A few months. I only have a few months. So how can I make sure this Boss Smith won’t come after me in a few months?”

William Brooks’s mind raced. Grudges usually arise from interests, so the best way to resolve a grudge is to create new interests.

“Mary Foster, what does your Uncle Smith do? What businesses does he have in the county?”

Hearing William Brooks’s question, Mary Foster’s fingers paused for a moment, then continued tapping the keyboard as she said, “Uncle Smith runs four arcades in the city—the kind with gambling machines. He also owns a bar, the Dream Bar near our school, that’s his.”

William Brooks understood. If John Smith were in his twenties or thirties, William Brooks wouldn’t have any ideas, because thugs at that age are really out there for the street life. But at John Smith’s age, in his forties, he already knew that the point of being a gangster was to make money.

As long as there’s money, these people can give up their so-called pride, even drink with their enemies. In street terms, that’s called “heroes respecting each other.”

“Maybe I should tell him the next lottery numbers, let him lose less?”

He shook his head and dismissed the idea, because that would only expose himself even more. Unless he was truly desperate, he absolutely couldn’t reveal his secret of knowing the future.