When we're playing cards during the holidays, my cousin, Owen Thompson, suddenly calls it boring and tells us that he wants to make a big gamble.

Then, he tosses his BMW keys onto the table and asks if we're bold enough to follow up with our own bets.

I know that Owen is just trying to flaunt the fact that he's bought himself a BMW.

Everyone is stunned by his antics. They quickly say, "This is just a game. We're not going to bet anything else."

After that, they start complimenting how amazing Owen is to be able to own a BMW at such a young age.

I, on the other hand, hesitate to do so. After all, my trump cards are a set of Ks.

Having gotten his ego boosted by the compliments, Owen is about to flush the deck when I put my car keys belonging to a cheaper, rundown car. Then, I mumble, "I'm going to follow up with a bet of my own."

Everyone falls silent at my statement. They just stare at me in disbelief, whereas Owen widens his eyes out of shock.

Almost immediately, things grow heated between us. The moment both of us place our car keys onto the betting table, our feeble relationship as cousins is quick to vanish.

But I don't regret my decision. Owen is the one who has decided to bet his BMW, after all.

Since he's capable of being this ruthless toward his own relatives, I might as well not give a damn about his feelings at all.

Owen lets out a cold chuckle before saying, "How much do you have in that pocket of yours, huh? You really think you can scare me, chump? I have a BMW, for crying out loud! You should gather more money first before placing your bet! Don't go around scamming others with just a shitty car!"

I stared at my cousin, Owen Thompson. I hated playing cards with him. It was meant to be a laid-back holiday game, but he threw his weight around and bet big on every hand.

Anyone who'd gambled before understood how it worked. When one person was short-stacked against a deep pocket, they had no dignity, just a slow grind into the felt.

While the rest of us were betting a dollar or two, Owen jumped straight to 500 dollars.

We tried to talk him down, saying we were family and shouldn't be playing that big. But he simply asked innocently, "What? 500 dollars is a lot now?"

Owen was picking on us because we were broke and couldn't call his bets. He hadn't come to play. Instead, he was there to humiliate us.

I knew my Buick was no match for his BMW. So, I turned and called my girlfriend, Amelia Moore, over. We were getting married soon, and she was wearing the gold jewelry I had given her.

"Put the necklace and the bracelet on the table," I said.

Amelia glanced at me. Without asking what cards I had, she took off the necklace and bracelet and set them on the table.

At that moment, a single thought flashed through my mind. What more could a man ask for in a partner?

"Is that enough for you? Ready to show your cards?" I asked Owen seriously.

Owen's expression changed instantly, and he clenched his teeth. Clearly, he hadn't expected me to push back.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Ethan. Losing a BMW means nothing to me. But if you lose everything, how's your family supposed to survive the next five years?" he mocked.

I shook my head. "We'll manage our own way. Besides, didn't you say earlier at dinner that I wasn't bold enough?"

Owen's expression darkened even further.

I had never done anything to offend him. But earlier at dinner, he had talked down to me just because I didn't make as much money as he did.

He even said I didn't have the guts to do anything big, unlike him. That was why he was the boss.

While Owen was talking, my dad handed him a cigarette and even lit it for him out of courtesy. Yet, he didn't even bother to cup his hand around the flame.

People from the city or younger folks probably didn't understand what that meant. But where we came from, if an elder lit a cigarette and the other person didn't bother to cup the flame, it was a sign of disrespect. So, Owen had publicly humiliated my family.

Right then, everyone looked at Owen nervously, waiting to see if he'd show his cards.

He took a deep breath before saying, "If we're going to play, let's make it bigger. That's the only way this gets interesting."

Having said that, he set his cards face down on the table, covered them with a plate, and walked out.

The rest of us stayed seated and watched as he went to the trunk of his BMW. He pulled out a small wooden box, carried it back inside, then set it on the table.

A beat later, Owen opened the box, and inside was nothing but cash.

"300 thousand dollars," Owen said, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Are you in or not?"

By then, we had already drawn the attention of the older members of the family.

My uncle, Peter Thompson, saw what was happening and panicked. He snapped at Owen, "Have you lost your mind? That money is set aside for the holidays! Are you seriously putting it on the table?"

Yet, Owen sat down with a grin, utterly unconcerned. "Don't worry. I can afford to play. The real question is… Can he?"

I immediately understood what he was up to.

In three-card brag, there was a cap to keep things from getting out of hand. But when the game started, Owen had shown off, insisting there be no limit. He meant to keep raising the stakes higher and higher until I couldn't keep up and lost everything.

Sure enough, he taunted, "Don't tell me you can't come up with the cash. Even if you can't, everything you've already bet stays on the table."

Uncle Peter caught on right away. This time, he didn't even bother hiding his amusement. He chuckled and turned back to his game of rummy, not sparing me another glance.

I clenched my fists and said nothing. There was no way I could come up with 300 thousand dollars in cash.

Out of nowhere, Amelia spoke up. "It's fine. We'll put the house on the line."

In an instant, every head in the room snapped toward her. Uncle Peter froze. A cigarette hung from his lips while his hand hovered over the cards.

Owen, on the other hand, stared at us blankly, his expression caught between anger and unease. Both of them were trembling slightly.

At that point, even the older relatives stopped playing. They quickly gathered around us, saying the stakes had gotten too high.

Panicked, my dad rushed over and slammed his fist into my shoulder. He shouted, "Have you lost your mind? Are you trying to bankrupt this family?"

As he yelled, he tried to see my cards. But I held them down tightly and refused to let him.

Those who knew the game understood that a person should never show their cards to anyone. Their reactions could give everything away.

I had three kings, and only three aces could beat that hand.

Owen was the one who started all of this. Every seasoned player knew what a hand like this meant—either I walked away with nothing, or blood would spill.

Amelia looked at Owen, calm and steady. "Our house is worth 500 thousand dollars. That's 200 thousand dollars more than what you've bet. Are you in or not?"

"Have all of you lost your minds?" Uncle Peter roared.

He lunged across the table, trying to shove our chips back. Then, he barked at me, "Don't provoke Owen! He's a big-time businessman and doesn't want to hold it against you!

"Apologize to him now! Do you not want him to help you get ahead someday?"

Without missing a beat, I grabbed him and snarled, "Put it all down!"

Uncle Peter hadn't expected me to snap at him like that. He flinched, and a shudder ran through him.

Through clenched teeth, I hissed, "When he was betting 500 dollars a hand, none of you said a word! When he was bragging at the dinner table, you had my dad light his cigarette for him. He was the one who threw his car keys in first. I'm seeing this all the way through!"

Uncle Peter stared at me, stunned. Then, he snapped, "How dare you speak to your elders like that!"

I looked at Owen, my voice icy as I said, "You've got two choices. Either you put in another 200 thousand dollars, and we show our cards, or you walk away and forfeit everything you've bet.

"There's also a third option. We call the whole thing off, and everyone takes their bets back. But you must apologize to my dad."

The room fell silent at once.

Everyone had seen it earlier—how Owen held his cigarette between two fingers and let Dad light it for him. Yet, at the time, no one spoke up.

In fact, I'd noticed the look on Uncle Peter's face. He'd been almost smug about it.

Just then, Owen let out a bitter laugh. "You've got a lot of nerve, huh? Acting like this in front of the whole family."

I shook my head. "The second you put your car keys on the table, we weren't family anymore."

Owen fell silent for a beat, then let out a cold laugh. "Fine. Don't blame me for pushing you then. You're the one who wanted to stay in, right?"

Just then, he picked up his cards and flipped two toward me. It was a pair of queens.

As soon as I saw them, a wave of relief washed over me. Still, my expression remained tight.

Owen tilted his chin up and said smugly, "So… What do you think? Did I hit three of a kind?"

In three-card brag, deliberately showing part of a hand like that was common. It was meant to rattle the other player and read their reaction.

But Owen couldn't scare me. Even if he really had three of a kind, it still wouldn't beat mine.

I had been worried that he might be holding three aces. Now, it was clear that fear had been pointless. That cocky stunt of his had only driven him into a dead end.

Even though I was completely at ease, I gritted my teeth and said, "You're bluffing. Are you in or out?"

Owen stared into my eyes, as if trying to read my mind. In this game, it was all about nerve and performance.

Even at that point, he still couldn't decide. Uncle Peter interjected, "Don't do it! He's obviously not scared of your hand! Can't you tell?"

"If I fold, I lose the BMW and the 300 thousand dollars I already put in! He's bluffing!" Owen snapped, his features twisting with rage.

Normally, the relatives would all be talking at once, throwing out advice from every direction. But now, no one dared say a word. Until the cards were revealed, there was no telling what was real and what wasn't.

Owen nervously scanned the faces around the table. Every bet had been his idea. If he backed out now, he'd never live it down in front of the family.

At last, he waved his wife, Kylie Reed, over. "Come here."

She reluctantly walked over to the table. Then, he told her to place her gold jewelry on the table. Hers was worth far more than Amelia's, after all.

But unlike Amelia, Kylie refused to take hers off. Owen immediately grew tense and showed her his cards.

The moment she saw them, her face lit up with joy. She hurriedly stripped off all her gold jewelry and set it on the table.

"Come on, let's take this all the way," she said with a grin. "Don't come crying when you lose. Everyone here is a witness. Anyone who backs out deserves what's coming to them."

"So, are you saying we should reveal our cards?" I asked.

Kylie shot back, "Why should we? We're taking this all the way."

The greed on her face was unmistakable. However, no one had any chips left.

Suddenly, Kylie pulled off her diamond ring and set it on the table. "This ring cost me 50 thousand dollars."

I shook my head. "I'm not taking the ring. That thing's worth 100 dollars at most."

"What the hell are you saying?" Kylie snapped as she jabbed a finger at me. "Do you even know what this is? This is designer!"

A wry smile tugged at my lips. "I don't care what it is. To me, it's worth 100 dollars."

Kylie was about to retort when Owen cut in, "Then, I'll put my house on the line too."

In an instant, a gasp rippled through the room, and Uncle Peter jumped to his feet. "Have you lost your mind? That house is located downtown! It's worth one and a half million dollars!"

"I'm not messing around, Dad," Owen replied with a sneer. "Whatever I put in, he has to match. That's the rule. Every bet has to top the last one.

"So, Ethan, do you have the money to keep up?"