On the night before I'm set to officially marry Shawn Ford, he keeps losing to his godsister, Tiffany Lynch, at the poker table on purpose.

"We're just playing for fun. Aren't we a family? Everyone here knows that Tiffany and I are as thick as thieves since young."

Tiffany plays with a poker card absent-mindedly.

"Surely you don't mind, right? Shawn told me that if I were to win this round, he'd give me the funds meant to renovate your marital home so that I can buy myself some bags."

The other players begin to cheer on Tiffany at that moment.

"Hell yeah! Tiffany is really lucky when it comes to poker! Joanna, there's no use saving that meager salary of yours. Why don't you just bet everything on the table to spice things up?"

I don't bother speaking afterward. All I do is pull out a chair and sit across from Shawn. Then, I dig out a property deed from my bag.

"You wanted to spice things up, right? I just bought this property at full price. Do you have the guts to put everything you have on the stake?"

The room fell dead silent.

Shawn Ford's hand trembled visibly as he held his cigarette, sending gray ash flying onto his designer trousers.

Tiffany Lynch's eyes gleamed with naked greed as they locked onto the deed.

"Joanna, have you lost your mind? That's a 20-million-dollar property," she gasped.

I smiled and pushed the deed toward the center of the table. "Why? Are you scared to accept the bet?"

Shawn's expression darkened. He stubbed out his cigarette hard in the ashtray.

"Joanna, why are you making a scene? Put that away right now. Don't embarrass yourself here."

"I'm not making a scene."

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "Since you keep saying that we're all family and shouldn't stand on ceremony, then as your fiancee, do I still need permission play a few hands?"

Tiffany immediately grabbed Shawn's sleeve, giving it a playful tug.

"Shawn, since Joanna wants to play, let's humor her. It's just moving money from one pocket to another. It all stays in the family anyway."

Her scheme was plain on her face.

Shawn looked at Tiffany, then back at the deed. The initial hesitation in his eyes quickly sharpened into a cold, ruthless glint.

"Fine," he snapped. "If you're so eager to throw your money away, I won't stop you. But let's get one thing straight. There are no couples at this Rummy table. If you lose, don't come crying to me."

I nodded. "Fair enough."

"Then let's deal."

The rhythmic snap-snap-snap of the deck being shuffled filled the room. I arranged my cards with clumsy fingers, and I was so uncoordinated that one slipped and fluttered to the floor.

Tiffany let out a mocking giggle. "Joanna, do you even know the rules? Need me to give you a quick lesson?"

"I'm good," I said, bending down to retrieve the card. My expression remained a mask of cool indifference. "It's mostly just luck anyway."

In the first round, I played without any strategy.

I didn't take the card when I should have, didn't lay down my melds when the timing was right, and I even discarded a winning card just to hand the next player the round.

Within half an hour, the stack of chips in front of me had dwindled by half.

Shawn's brow finally smoothed out, replaced by a look of sheer disdain. "Give it up, Joanna. Don't push your luck. I told you, this takes a certain kind of talent. You're too stiff to ever get the hang of it."

Tiffany was completely drunk on her winning streak, squeezing every single card before flipping it over and babbling excitedly, "Oh my god, another monster! I'm on an absolute heater tonight!"

She looked at me, her eyes dripping with a winner's arrogance. "Why don't we just call it, Joanna? I can see how much this is hurting you. If you lose that deed to me, where are you going to stay tonight? I'd hate to see you out on the street."

The people around us started making snide remarks as well.

"Joanna, Shawn's only humoring you because he spoils you."

"Exactly. What's a good girl like you doing pretending to be some card shark? Just go home and get some beauty sleep before you lose the clothes off your back."

I ignored them. I just stared at my cards, acting as if I were lost in desperate thought.

"Keep dealing," I said, pushing my remaining chips into the center. "We're nowhere near done."

…

Tiffany's luck remained ridiculously hot, and Shawn was blatantly soft-playing her.

If Tiffany was chasing a run, Shawn would save the card she needed until his turn, then discard it for her to pick up. And if she were building a set, he would sacrifice his own hand to help her complete it.

In a two-against-one setup like this, the lone person was meant to lose.

Before long, my side of the table was completely empty. Tiffany could barely contain her glee as she reached for the deed.

"Thanks for the charity, Joanna," Tiffany purred. "That place is in a prime location. My current place is just a lease anyway. I'll move in next month."

Shawn leaned back in his chair, his tone carrying the air of someone scolding a misbehaving child.

"That's enough, Joanna. You lost. Take it like an adult," he said. "We'll handle the transfer tomorrow. Stop being so impulsive. Tiffany is my sister. Giving the house to her isn't exactly a loss."

Just as Tiffany's hand reached for the deed, I slammed my palm down on top of it.

Her hand froze in mid-air, her smug grin faltering. "What's wrong, Joanna? Can't you afford to lose?"

Shawn's face darkened instantly. "Joanna, a bet is a bet. Don't make me look down on you."

I looked up, my eyes rimmed red, my voice trembling just enough to sound desperate. "Who said I lost? I still have something else."

I reached for my neck, unclasped a diamond pendant, and slapped it onto the table. It was the only decent gift Shawn had ever bought me in the past few years. It had cost him over a hundred thousand dollars.

"This is my buy-in for the next round," I said.

Shawn blinked in surprise, stunned for a heartbeat before a cold sneer twisted his lips.

"You've completely lost it, Joanna. I bought that for you. You're seriously going to use it to bet against me?"

"Why not?"

I met his gaze, my eyes sparking with defiance. "You gave it to me, which makes it mine. What I do with it is my business."

A flicker of jealousy crossed Tiffany's face, quickly swallowed by her greed.

"Sure. Since you're so eager, I'd be happy to take it off your hands," she mocked. "The stone isn't quite up to my standards, but it's still Shawn's token of affection. I'll take it back for him."

…

I lost the next hand just as quickly, and the pendant became hers.

Tiffany toyed with the piece—which was still warm from my skin—before carelessly tossing it into the nearby storage bin.

"Ugh, honestly? It's not even that nice when you look at it up close. It's kind of dated," she chirped. "I much prefer the Cartier necklace Shawn bought me last week."

I involuntarily clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms.

That pendant had been his gift to me for our third anniversary. I had cherished it like a holy relic, never even taking it off to shower.

But now, in Tiffany's eyes, it was just another piece of outdated junk.

Shawn glanced at the storage bin but said nothing. It was as if that pendant wasn't a gift he had spent hours picking out, but just some worthless pebble.

"Out of chips?" Shawn asked, his fingers tapping impatiently on the table. "If you're tapped out, go home. You're being an eyesore. We were having a good time until you showed up and killed the vibe."

I took a deep breath and slid a vintage emerald bracelet off my wrist.

It was an heirloom from my mom, a piece I had worn every single day since I turned 18. Everyone in our circle knew that it was my most prized possession.

The moment I set the bracelet on the table, it gave a crisp clink.

Tiffany's eyes went wide. That bracelet was worth at least seven figures, and despite its price tag, pieces like this rarely came up for sale.

"Is this enough?"

My voice was hoarse, sounding exactly like a desperate gambler at the end of her rope.

When Shawn saw the bracelet, his eyes narrowed. He knew exactly what it meant to me.

Once, I had accidentally bumped it against a counter and cried all night, terrified that I had cracked it. He had stayed up half the night consoling me.

Now, as he looked at it, there wasn't a flicker of sympathy in his eyes—only cold calculation.

"Joanna, that's your mom's heirloom," he said, his voice laced with mock concern.

"I know," I said, my gaze locked onto his. "But I'm doubling down. I'm winning back my house, and I'm winning back my dignity."

Tiffany swallowed hard, greed getting the better of her as she reached eagerly for the deck. "Shawn, if Joanna wants to play this badly, wouldn't refusing just make it look like we're looking down on her? Come on, let's keep it going!"

The game resumed.

The tension in the room grew palpable. For all her greed, Tiffany knew how much was riding on that bracelet. Her moves grew noticeably more cautious.

I continued to play without any clear strategy, even seeming a little impatient.

After several rounds, the tension reached a breaking point. It was the final hand of the night.

I was one card away from going out, just waiting for the Two of Spades to complete my run.

Tiffany was also clearly one card away from winning, her eyes fixed intently on the table.

It was Shawn's turn to draw.

He drew a card and ran his thumb over its face for a long moment. His gaze drifted between Tiffany and me.

I knew exactly what he was holding. It was the Two of Spades.

I also knew that Tiffany was waiting on a Five or an Eight. The Two was useless to her, but as long as he held onto it, I couldn't win. But if he discarded it, I could turn the tables.

This was the ultimate test. I wanted to see whether I, his fiancee, still held even a fraction of his heart.

"Shawn," Tiffany called sweetly, as if she had sensed something. "I think I'm about to win."

Shawn glanced at me. I met his eyes, a final flicker of hope burning in my eyes.

Even if he just held the card and forced a draw, I could live with that—as long as he didn't go out of his way to hand Tiffany the victory on a silver platter.

Shawn looked away, a cruel, mocking smirk playing on his lips.

"Tiffany, watch this," he said.

He kept the Two of Spades in his hand and discarded the Eight of Diamonds instead.

"Eight of Diamonds."

Tiffany let out a squeal of delight. "I win! I was waiting for this Eight of Diamonds!"

My heart felt like it was sinking into the bottom of the ocean.

He had clearly drawn the card that could have helped me win, yet he chose to break up his own winning hand just to feed Tiffany the discard she wanted, even though that one move would cost me my mom's heirloom.

Tiffany snatched the emerald bracelet off the table, slid it onto her wrist, and admired it. "It's gorgeous. The clarity of this emerald is incredible."

She deliberately flaunted her wrist in front of me, the vivid green stinging my eyes. "Thanks for letting me win it, Joanna."

Shawn lit a cigarette, exhaling a slow cloud of smoke. "I told you not to play, but you just wouldn't listen."

He mocked, "Happy now? You just gambled away your own mom's heirloom. How are you going to explain that to her when you meet her on the other side?"

I couldn't believe he had the nerve to bring up my mom.

I lowered my head, my shoulders trembling. Everyone must have thought that I was breaking down in tears.

But I wasn't crying. I was laughing.

I was laughing at my own stupidity, at how pathetic this entire relationship had become. And mostly, I was laughing because the bait had finally been taken.

…

"Deal another hand."

I snapped my head up, my hair a mess, and my eyes burning red. I looked exactly like a woman who had just gambled away everything she had and finally snapped.

Everyone at the table was startled.

Shawn frowned. "Joanna, are you done yet? What do you even have left to lose? That measly three-grand-a-month job of yours? Or that closet full of cheap fast fashion?"

He snapped, "Stop making a scene and just get out of here."

Tiffany curled her lip in disdain. "Seriously, Joanna, just call it quits. We're going out for a late-night celebration. We don't have time to waste on a broke nobody like you."

With that, she stood, her hand instinctively hovering over the emerald bracelet she had won from me, as if afraid I might try to snatch it back.

I reached into a hidden compartment of my bag, pulled out a document, and slapped it onto the table with a resounding smack.

"This is an equity transfer agreement for five percent of the founding shares of Simpson Group. They're yours the moment you sign."

In an instant, the room fell silent. Everyone gaped in shock.

Simpson Group was the largest conglomerate in the city, valued at hundreds of billions of dollars. A five-percent stake? That wasn't just chump change—it was worth tens of billions of dollars!

The lit cigarette in Shawn's hand dropped right onto his lap. It burned a hole straight through his pants, but he didn't even flinch. He surged to his feet, his voice cracking.

"Joanna, you… you're a Simpson?"

We had been together for three years. In all that time, I had never breathed a single word about my family. I had told him that my parents were gone, and that I had built my life from scratch.

I drove a beat-up Volkswagen worth barely a few grand and always dressed in ordinary office wear. To him, I was just another average office worker with some meager savings.

He never dreamed that I was the long-lost heiress to the Simpson family.

"Why? Don't I look the part?" I stared him down, expressionless. "Are you in or out? These shares, in exchange for your tech startup that just secured funding, plus…"

I pointed a sharp finger at Tiffany. "Everything she's taken from me at this table tonight, and the deed to her downtown condo."

Shawn's breath came in ragged gasps. His eyes burned red. It was the look of a man consumed by absolute greed.