At one of the exclusive private casino parties, my eyes landed on a diamond tiara. The catch? It was the prize for a high-stakes blackjack game. Luckily, poker happens to be one of my many sins.

A girl named Elara—whom I once pitied enough to introduce to Throne, hoping she’d land a job—has now declared she wants the tiara too. Naïve. Probably thought beginner’s luck was a real thing.

I figured, fine. Let the cards decide. If I win, I walk away with the tiara. If I lose, I’ll find another way to soothe my pride. Easy enough.

Thorne, my ever-watchful husband, leaned in and murmured, “Go easy on her.”

I didn’t.

I won. Beat the dealer faster than her and won the tiara.

That girl cried at the table.

Thorne didn’t look impressed for once. He rather seemed... irritated. I thought it was for Elara’s sake. Turns out, it was for mine.

A year later, same party, different stakes.

The grand prize? My own sex video.

While holding Elara in his arms, my husband said to me, voice almost amusing, “Don’t you like winning prizes? Then go on. Win our sex tape back.”

1

Selene’s POV

I sat at the poker table, back straight, while my own sex tape played in full glory on the giant LED screen in front of me.

My face might’ve been blurred—but my voice? Unmistakable. Every sigh, every moan, every breathless plea echoed through the hall like a scandalous symphony.

And this room? It was filled with power. Mafia royalty. Billionaire heirs. Politicians’ bastard sons. Tonight was supposed to be about deals, alliances, discreet flirtations over cards and champagne. Instead, it had become a show. A public humiliation starring me.

I turned slowly toward my husband.

Thorne. Unbothered as ever, swirling champagne in his glass like nothing was playing at all.

All around me, the whispers slithered.

“She looks just like Mrs. Alden…”

“Like? That’s her. See the birthmark? Right on her neck—same as Selene’s.”

“But who’s the man? Mr. Alden?”

“Doubt it. Who the hell records themselves like that?”

I wanted to scream. Wanted to rip that smug screen off the wall.

I knew exactly who was in that tape. That was our bedroom. Our moment. And Thorne—he’d made sure only I could be recognized. Blurring his face, shielding his identity… while leaving me to burn.

Why?

And then she walked in.

The girl from last year. The one who cried when I beat her at poker and took that tiara. I’d barely remembered her name—until I saw Thorne rise from his seat to greet her. A kiss on the cheek. Soft. Familiar.

It hit me like a knife between the ribs.

This was revenge. Thorne’s. For her.

As this year’s host, it was his job to give the welcome toast. And when he took the stage, I could already feel my stomach knotting.

He lifted his glass. “To everyone here—may tonight bring thrilling games and profitable partnerships. And for those intrigued by the little… cinematic surprise earlier? That tape is tonight’s grand prize.”

The room buzzed.

Thorne smiled coolly. “Anyone can compete for it. But only one will win. And with it… exclusive rights to the full video.”

As he stepped down from the stage, I stormed toward him. “What the fuck are you doing, Thorne?”

He draped an arm casually over my shoulder, his breath brushing my ear. “You like to win, don’t you, darling? I just thought I’d raise the stakes. But don’t worry—” he smiled, cruel and beautiful—“I’m sure you can win it back. You’re so lucky at the poker table, after all.”

A low whistle broke through behind me.

“If only we could win her for the night too.”

“She won’t put on a show for you, idiot,” another man muttered. “You think a woman like that comes cheap?”

Disgusting.

“Selene, right?” someone sneered. “I heard your family’s business is circling the drain. I could float you a few million—if you make me comfortable, like in that video.”

“And didn’t her casino in NYC just go bankrupt?” another voice joined in, too gleeful. “Poor girl doesn’t even know her husband hostile bought it out.”

My blood ran cold.

It was like Throne didn’t just want to punish me. He wanted to break me. Piece by piece.

How could my husband of all people to be the one behind that hostile buyout. That casino was my father’s hard work, and he knew it.

“You did it?” I asked, staring at him.

He didn’t deny it. Just offered me that insufferable smirk.

“All because I didn’t let your little mistress win a tiara?”

Still no answer. Just a clap of his hands as he turned toward the room. “All right,” Thorne called out. “Anyone who wishes to compete for the grand prize, please take your seat.”

I raised my hand. “I’ll play.”

I walked to Table 01, slid into the chair. And the bastard? He looked pleased.

“Who else?” he asked, surveying the room like a king about to start a war. “Who wants a shot at the prize?”

“All this fuss over one video?” someone scoffed.

Thorne’s grin widened. “Not just one, Mr. Clerk. There are twenty. Different backgrounds. Different angles. Let’s just say… quite the variety of poses.”

The room practically erupted.

“I’m in.”

“Me too.”

Of course they were. These men were bored, rich, and cruel. They enjoyed watching a woman unravel.

…

The rules were simple—no-limit Texas Hold’em. Best hand wins. A royal flush was the top, though no one sane counted on getting one. This game ran on bluff, guts, and ice-cold luck.

But Thorne, being Thorne, had added a twist.

Whoever won at the final table wouldn’t just win the tapes—they’d buy them with their final bet. If the pot was a dollar, the tapes would cost a dollar. If it was ten million? That was the price.

And with five tables running tonight, I’d have to win my own table and the final table just to get a chance.

And if they raised the pot high enough, even victory would mean defeat.

“Let’s not waste more time, shall we?” I said coolly to Thorne, then turned my attention to the table.

The dealer handed out the cards. I glanced down—diamond 7, spade 7.

A pair. Not magic, but with a little luck? Maybe four of a kind.

I scanned the table. A few players furrowed their brows. One smiled like he already knew how this would end.

“Place your first bets,” the dealer said. “Starting with this gentleman.”

“One million.”

“Call.”

“Call.”

“Fold.”

“Raise.”

My turn. I tapped my fingers lightly on the green felt. There was more than one way to win a hand. Sometimes, bluffing was stronger than any card.

“Raise,” I said smoothly.

“Fold.”

Already two players were gone. Just four left, and one of them—the bearded man—was wearing that smug, overconfident grin.

The dealer revealed the flop: heart 7, diamond 8, heart 10.

I nearly smiled. Three sevens. One more and I’d have four of a kind.

Second round. I raised. One player folded. The rest called.

The pot was climbing fast. No-limit always meant chaos.

The turn card: heart Jack.

Now it was just me and the bearded man. Still smug. Still sure he had me beat. “Going to raise again, Miss?” he asked, voice thick with an accent I couldn’t place.

I smiled, calm and dangerous. “Maybe,” I said, leaning forward. “I’ve got the best hand on the table.”

I paused, eyes locking with his. “Do you?” I asked, cool and poised.

The man leaned in slightly, that smug glint still lingering in his eyes. “Miss, how about this—you let me win, I buy the video, and I’ll give it back to you. Maybe take you to dinner while we’re at it, hmm?”

His tone was syrupy with mock kindness, but his gaze held nothing but condescension.

I smiled. “No need. I can win it back myself. But thank you… for the offer.”

2

Selene’s POV

My refusal clearly bruised his ego. His expression twisted, smugness slipping into something nastier. “You keep raising like that and you’ll just embarrass yourself. Desperation doesn’t look good on a woman. Especially not one who’s… average at best.”

I leaned forward slightly, meeting his gaze without blinking. “Then why are you so sure I’ll lose?” I lifted my cards, eyes scanning them. “I’ve got a pretty damn good hand.”

He sneered. “Then I call.”

“Raise,” I answered without pause.

Even Thorne’s eyes flicked toward me in surprise. He hadn’t expected me to go all in like this. And certainly not with the kind of bet I’d just dropped on the table.

If I won, I’d have to pay that price to buy the tapes. He knew I didn’t have that kind of cash liquid.

The final card hit the table—a spade 8.

Full house.

I had it.

But the man across from me was still grinning like the devil knew something I didn’t. It was the kind of smile that made you doubt yourself—almost.

He tilted his head. “So what now, Miss? Raise? Call? Or are you going to fold and keep a sliver of your dignity?”

God, he was exhausting.

I leaned back, calm as ever, then smiled sweetly. “Why don’t you go first?”

He glanced at his cards, whispered something in a language I didn’t recognize to the man beside him.

The whispers started.

“She’s really going all out. If she loses, she won’t even make the final table.”

“Even if she wins, I heard she’s short on money. How’s she going to buy the video?”

“Why would her husband do this to her?”

“Hush. She humiliated his mistress last year. This is payback.”

“But still…”

The room was alive with murmurs and judgment. My name on every tongue. But I didn’t bother to listen. I just concentrated on this poker game in front of me.

Finally, the bearded man turned back to me and smiled. “You’ve got nerve, Miss. I admire that. Raise.”

“Raise,” I said immediately, slapping my chips onto the felt. “Let’s see it.”

The final showdown.

He leaned in again, voice oily. “Shall we make this more exciting? Show our cards together. Add a little thrill.”

I arched a brow. “Fine by me.”

I had a full house. It would take a four of a kind, a flush, or a royal flush to beat me.

I liked my odds.

And then—of course—Thorne appeared at my side. “You can still fold,” he said, voice low. “Your bet’s too high. You don’t have enough money to buy the video.”

I turned my head, locking eyes with him.

“Would that make you happy?” I asked. My voice wasn’t sharp—it was quiet, steady, slicing deep. “Seeing me humiliated like that? Watching me win… only to not afford what’s mine?”

His jaw tightened.

The bearded man gave a long, obnoxious whistle, clearly performing for his pack of hyenas. “If I win, I’m buying that video and playing it for the whole damn room. I bet the rest is even juicier than the preview.”

Laughter rippled through the filth.

I didn’t even blink. “Show your cards.”

We revealed them at the same time.

And just like that, it was over.

He had a flush—all five cards the same suit. A decent hand. Strong, even. He thought it made him invincible.

But I had the full house.

The moment the dealer confirmed the win, his smirk dropped like a guillotine. The crowd stilled for half a heartbeat, then erupted again. He sat there stunned, because he’d thought he had it in the bag.

Naïve as hell.

…

Then came the final round. The winners from each table stepped up to claim their seat at the last game. This wasn’t a table of amateurs anymore. No more idiots to bluff into folding.

And I saw Elara.

She settled into her seat across from me, all practiced poise. “Mr. Alden’s taught me a few tricks this past year,” she purred. “I’m here to help you win your videos back, Mrs. Alden.”

Her smile was sugar-coated malice.

I didn’t reply. I just needed to let her see the fire in my eyes.

Just as the dealer shuffled, another video lit up the LED screen—me and Thorne, in the pool this time. The scene was hotter. Wilder.

The men went feral.

“I want that!”

“Is it too late to join?!”

Thorne stood there with a drink in hand, amused by the chaos. He caught my gaze, eyebrows raised in mock sympathy. “Looks like you better bring your A-game, babe. The men at your table seem very... motivated.”

Cards were dealt.

I glanced at mine—and my heart skipped.

No. It can’t be.

At this stage? These cards?

The man beside me noticed my sudden stillness and sneered. “Bad hand, huh?”

I snapped out of it, schooled my face, and shot him a cool glare. “Mind your own business.”

The first round of bets started.

Everyone called—until me.

“Raise.”

He gawked. “You’ve got nerves, sweetheart.” Then he leaned in with a leer. “I like that. How about you ditch Thorne and come with me? We could film our own little collection.”

I didn’t even look at him. Disgusting, predictable, pathetic.

The flop landed.

And my stomach dipped again. My fingers tightened on my cards.

Could it be…?

The man noticed. He leaned in again, voice low and sleazy. “I’ve got a solid hand. We could work together, you know. Make sure I win it.”

Elara chimed in, her voice sweet as poison. “If your cards are that bad, we could collaborate.”

Right.

Thorne’s little twist to the game: cheating wasn’t technically against the rules.

They could all gang up. Manipulate the pot. Rig the game.

And yet—I smiled. “No thanks,” I said, voice like silk-wrapped steel. “I’ll play fair and square.”

Thorne let out a soft laugh, raising his glass. “To Mrs. Alden,” he said, voice rich with amusement. “Always so stubborn. Still believing in luck.”

Round after round, players fell away.

By the fourth, only three of us remained—me, Elara, and the leering bastard beside me.

I raised again. Bold. Ruthless.

The pot surged to one hundred million.

The man blanched. No way he could afford that video now. Even if he won, it would ruin him.

He folded, face tight with regret.

And then it was just me and Elara. One-on-one. Exactly how Thorne had planned it and how I wanted it.

We stared at each other like we had a year ago—only this time, Elara wasn’t the girl sobbing over a lost poker hand.

Tonight, she wore a designer dress that clung to her curves, smoky eye makeup done to perfection, and a slick, venomous red lip. She’d come back, not to play, but to avenge herself. And she wanted to do it with my humiliation in her hands.

If I lost this game... she’d win the videos. All of them.

I didn’t imagine she’d keep them hidden. No, she’d share them—pass them around like party favors, laughing with her new friends as they watched me fall apart.

3

Selene’s POV

“So?” the dealer asked, his voice slicing through the tension. “Call, raise, or fold?”

I had already raised. The move had cornered her—if she folded now, I’d take the win. But if she called or raised, we’d go to a showdown.

My earlier expressions had been carefully chosen—a frown here, a sigh there. Just enough to keep her guessing. To make her and Thorne both wonder: Was I bluffing? Or had I pulled the impossible?

Even Thorne couldn’t read me. And Elara—she hadn’t yet learned how to read anything but the cards.

She glanced toward him. He gave her the smallest nod. She turned back to me, lips curving into that mock-sweet smile. “Raise. Two hundred million.”

So Thorne really did think I was bluffing.

I exhaled slowly, then gestured toward the dealer. “Showdown.”

Elara’s grin widened. “Let me go first.”

She laid her cards on the table with a flourish—hearts, nine through king. A flush. Almost a royal flush. Almost.

No wonder she was smug.

She leaned back, smugly sipping from her champagne glass. “How about I give you one last chance, Selene. Fold now. Spare yourself the embarrassment.”

There was laughter in her eyes. Pity, even. “You did help me once,” she added. “Introduced me to Mr. Alden when I needed a job.”

Thorne interjected smoothly, “No need to thank me. You earned that job. You’re smart. Capable.”

Behind them, women whispered loud enough for the room to hear.

“No wonder Thorne likes her more. Elara’s way softer. Not cold and condescending like that one.”

“Right? Did you see those videos? Girl moved like a damn pornstar. Probably tricked him into marrying her.”

“Bet he thought she was some high-class debutante, but she turned out to be just another whore.”

Elara turned back to me, blinking innocently. “So? What’ll it be, Selene? Show your cards? Or let me help you win the videos back?”

I leaned back, smiling faintly. “I don’t need a stupid bitch to help me.”

The gasps around the room were immediate.

The dealer moved toward me, his gloved hands revealing four of my cards—hearts ten, jack, queen, king.

Matching Elara’s.

The room buzzed.

“What the hell? The same hand?”

“Is this some kind of joke? A tie?”

Even Elara’s face slipped. She glanced at Thorne again, uncertain. “No worries,” he said quickly, too quickly. “We’ll just go another round.”

Then, without a word, I placed the last card on the table.

Hearts ace.

Royal flush.

Silence dropped like a blade.

Elara froze. Thorne’s face darkened.

And the dealer—wide-eyed, stunned—looked between us, then finally announced, “The winner is... Mrs. Alden.”

Thorne’s twisted face was the most entertaining thing I’d seen all night.

He leaned over and whispered something into Elara’s ear. She smiled, slow and smug, before clapping her hands like this was all just charming fun. “Still such a lucky gambler, Selene. But tell me… with your family’s situation, do you even have two hundred million?”

Thorne gestured for a staff member, who came forward carrying a sleek swipe machine.

“Mrs. Alden,” the woman said, syrup-sweet and sharp-edged. “If you’re ready, please swipe your card here. We can begin processing.”

Two hundred million.

I handed her my first card.

A beat passed. Then: “Declined. Mrs. Alden, do you have another one?”

The room broke into laughter.

“Thorne,” someone cackled, “did you forget to give your little wife her allowance this month?”

“She’s betting like a queen and doesn’t even have a dime.”

“If you gamble without money, the rule is simple,” another man jeered. “You sell yourself.”

“For two hundred million? I wouldn’t pay a thousand for that bitch. Still too expensive.”

I ignored them. “Try this one,” I said, handing over another card.

The woman barely checked it before shaking her head. “Still declined. Not enough balance. Miss, don’t waste our time.”

Her tone had shifted—sharp, sneering. “Security,” she barked.

A dozen men in black stepped forward. Ready to toss me out like trash.

I looked down at the last card in my wallet. One I hadn’t touched since marrying Thorne. A card I never thought I’d need again.

Quietly, I held it out. “Alright. Try this one.”

She snorted, eyes rolling as she swiped it. “Security—”

Ding.

“Thank you for your payment.”

The entire room fell silent.

Thorne’s head snapped toward the screen. His jaw clenched. “What the fuck?!”

“Wait—what?”

“That went through?!”

“She just paid two hundred million?!”

“Didn’t Thorne say she was broke?”

“Is that—holy shit—is that a central bank black card?”

“That’s an executive-level card. There are only, what, ten in circulation?”

“Who is she?”

Even the payment staff looked stunned, blinking at the machine like it had glitched. “No error,” she whispered. “It’s real. She paid.”

I smiled, finally turning to face them all.