Andrew sat down slowly, his movements deliberate. He didn’t reach for the chips, didn’t crack a joke, didn’t flash a smile. He simply looked at the table, then at the man sitting opposite him—Mr. Davidson.The air thickened with anticipation.Davidson sipped his scotch without blinking. He hadn’t expected Andrew to accept the seat. Few ever did. Even fewer walked away untouched.The other men gave each other side glances—mocking, cautious, speculative. One of them leaned back, whispering something behind a cigar, and a low chuckle followed. But even that laughter felt manufactured, tight around the edges. Nobody wanted to show too much interest. Not yet.Andrew said nothing. He picked up the cards and flipped them neatly in his hand. His eyes moved from player to player—not with suspicion, but with the distant awareness of a man reading a room, not just watching it.The game began.It wasn’t poker. It wasn’t blackjack. It was a hybrid—an exclusive design with custom rules that had evo