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But now, in Tiffany's eyes, it was just another piece of outdated junk.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

Shawn's company had just gotten off the ground. While it held some promise, it was a mere drop in the bucket compared to Simpson Group's empire. The difference between them was like night and day.

If he won this hand, he would rise to the top in one fell swoop, becoming an overnight tycoon.

As for losing?

The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. I had already lost everything that night. To him, I was nothing more than a fool whose only purpose was to hand over my fortune.

"Shawn…" Tiffany was also overwhelmed by the staggering wealth at stake, but a shred of reason still clung to her. "Isn't this… too much? What if—"

"There are no 'what ifs'!" Shawn cut her off sharply, his eyes fixed greedily on the agreement. "She's had rotten luck all night, and she doesn't even know the first thing about the game. This is a heaven-sent fortune falling right into our laps! We'd be idiots to walk away from a windfall like this!"

He turned to me, his gaze frenzied. "Fine! I'll bet with you! But how do I know this agreement is real?"

I took out my phone and initiated a video call to Simpson Group's legal director.

A few minutes later, the lawyer confirmed my identity and the authenticity of my shares.

Shawn had completely lost his grip on reality. He immediately waved over a server to bring a pen and paper. Thinking that it still wasn't formal enough, he called over the manager to act as a witness.

"One hand. Winner takes all," Shawn said through gritted teeth, his hands trembling. "Whoever clears their hand first wins."

Even though she was terrified, Tiffany succumbed to Shawn's oppressive stare. With trembling fingers, she placed her property deed and her earlier winnings on the table.

She removed the emerald bracelet and placed it in the center of the table, where it sat looking small and lonely against the mountain of assets.

The agreement was signed, and fingerprints were pressed onto it.

The game resumed.

This time, even the onlookers held their breath. Most people might only witness a multi-billion-dollar gamble like this once in a lifetime.

Shawn was drenched in a cold sweat, the back of his shirt completely soaked.

Every time he drew a card, he hesitated for what felt like an eternity, terrified of making a single wrong move.

Tiffany looked even worse. She was as pale as a ghost, her hands trembling so violently that she could barely keep her cards organized.

Then there was me. I took my time sorting my hand, a faint smirk playing on my lips.

The mask of the flustered, impatient, and clumsy amateur I had worn for the last few rounds shattered in an instant. In its place was a composure and coldness that radiated from within.

This was the true presence of Simpson Group's heiress.

This was also the aura of the "Rummy Queen" who had once swept the high-stakes underground tables of Wegas.

I was never some clueless office worker. During my years studying abroad, my favorite pastime had been mastering the odds and reading every hand.

Rummy? That was child's play to me.

In the first round, Shawn was still trying to feed Tiffany the cards she needed.

He discarded a Three of Diamonds, shooting Tiffany a meaningful look, signaling her to take it.

"I'll take that," I uttered the words calmly, cutting off Tiffany's play.

Then, I casually tossed a Nine of Spades onto the discard pile.

Shawn froze. He didn't need a Nine of Spades, and the rhythm of their collusion was instantly broken.

Over the next few rounds, no matter what coordination Shawn tried, I disrupted it precisely.

Every draw was mine for the taking. Every meld, mine for the making.

The entire momentum of the game was now firmly in my grasp. I was like a skilled hunter, watching two trapped beasts struggle in my snare.

Panic began to set in for Shawn.

He realized that I wasn't just playing; I was toying with them. Every card I laid down felt like a calculated strike, landing exactly where it would cripple his hand.

"You… You were pretending all along?"

Shawn pointed at me with a trembling finger, his voice a ragged rasp.

I ignored him and drew a card.

I traced the face of the card with my thumb, my smile widening.

"Shawn, do you know the true meaning of despair?"

I placed the card face-down on the table without flipping it over.

"Despair is when you think you've finally grabbed a rope to pull yourself into heaven, only to look up and realize that it's actually a noose."

His face turned deathly pale. "What do you mean?"

Tiffany was already breaking down in tears. "Shawn, I don't want to do this anymore. I want to go home."

"Too late."

I slammed the card face-up on the table.