Returning from the Dead: His Secret Lover – Chapter 1126

“Three of a kind. I won this, didn’t 1?”

“Ha,” was Sabrina’s only response to the first gambler she went up against.

In the next second, she threw her cards out on the table.

The crowd gasped loudly at the sight of the cards.

She had a flush!

It was unbelievable.

The other gambler was speechless for a moment before hanging his head, despondent. In the end, he threw his cards aside.
“Fine, you won. Say now. What do you want to know?”

“Okay,” Sabrina said gleefully.

She, too, threw her cards on the table before taking something out of her pocket and putting it in front of her.
“I want to know where this bullet is from.”

“What?”

Once again, the crowd gasped in surprise.

They were indeed at a black market, but still, she was the first they had ever seen to be so straightforward. Moreover, what she had fished out of her pocket was a bullet!

Their faces paled.

Even the gambler was stuttering. “H-How am I supposed to know the answer to that? A bullet’s a bullet. That’s all.”

Nevertheless, Sabrina continued to stare at him, the smile on her face gone. “Take a closer look. If you give me the answer, this five million will be yours.”

The gambler inhaled sharply.
It was basically free money.

Immediately, he lost his stammer. With his eyes fixed on the bullet, he blurted out, “This is a bullet from a sniper rifle. I think it’s from an SSG model.”

“No, how can this be from an SSG model? A bullet from an SSG sniper wouldn’t be that long and complicated. It’ll just be copper wrapped around gunpowder,” someone instantly refuted.

Rage filled the gambler’s chest when he heard that. “Am I the one playing, or are you the one playing? I’m the one who’s answering her question.”

The one who interrupted him fell silent.

“It’s okay. Anyone here can tell me the origin of the bullet, and I’ll bet a round with them. Then, the money’s yours.” Sabrina shrugged, seemingly a completely generous person.

Immediately, a commotion broke out.

In seconds, all kinds of people were trying to inform Sabrina about the origins of the bullet. They fought, verbally and physically, just for the chance of getting rich.

Meanwhile, Sabrina watched them with slight disinterest.

Of course, at one point in time, a pen and a paper had appeared in her hands. Every time they revealed any information about the bullet, she would speedily note it down.

The tip of the bullet was lead, and there was a ring at the bottom.

It contained a luminescent agent that would provide more accurate aiming, which in return would lead to a more destructive shot.
The bullet was suitable for far-distance shooting, and once it buried itself in its target, the target was doomed to die.

At the last two sentences, Sabrina’s hand stiffened, and her knuckles turned white.

“Miss, this bullet is basically from the latest weapon in the market. Are you thinking of buying it? If you want to, I can tell you how to. I know a shop that se—”

“What are all of you doing?” Just as one of the gamblers was about to tell Sabrina where to get the bullet, a bellow came from the outside.

The moment the voice echoed in the place, the men who had been circling Sabrina’s money like a pack of hyenas immediately dispersed as if they had turned into rats who had seen a cat.

“Mr. Drake!” “Mr. Drake.”

“Hello, Mr. Drake.”

In the next second, a middle-aged man in local clothing appeared. Not a strand of hair on his head was out of place, and he had a tiny mustache. The moment he appeared by the staircase, everyone in the casino began greeting him politely.

Mr. Drake?

Is he not local?

If he is, then why is he a Drake? Wasn’t Drakon the one who raped Shanae? Sabrina quickly grabbed the bullet on the table as she stared at the man icily.
“What were you all doing earlier?”

“M-Mr. Drake, this lady here suddenly entered the casino and took out five million to bet with us. If we lose, we’ll have to tell her the origin of the bullet in her hand,” said one of the braver ones as he shakily pointed at the bullet in Sabrina’s hand.

Immediately, the middle-aged man narrowed his eyes in displeasure and let them drift toward Sabrina.
“Miss, may I know what your name is?” With a cigarette in his hand, he strode toward the table Sabrina was at.

“The name’s Soprano. What’s the matter? Am I not allowed to play in this way? I’ve heard that we could make any deals here.”

There was no hint of fear on her face at all.
The casino owner’s eyes narrowed.

The woman had an unfamiliar face. He had been in the criminal underworld for so long, but he had never seen a woman as courageous and arrogant as her.

Then, his gaze slowly trailed toward the bullet in her hand.

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