The mansion’s gambling room was a secluded sanctuary, tucked away in the west wing of the house. It was a space designed for indulgence, a place where the wealthy could lose themselves in games of chance and skill. The room was dimly lit, with soft, golden light emanating from a series of crystal chandeliers that hung low over the centerpiece, a massive, circular table made of polished mahogany. The surface of the table was inlaid with intricate patterns of mother of pearl, catching the light and shimmering like the surface of a calm lake. Around the table were high-backed leather chairs, their deep crimson upholstery adding a touch of opulence to the room. The walls were lined with shelves filled with rare board games, decks of cards, and other gambling paraphernalia. A fully stocked bar stood in one corner, its shelves lined with crystal decanters of whiskey, brandy, and other fine spirits. The air carried a faint scent of leather and aged wood, mingling with the sharper tang of p

The drive back to the mansion was quiet, the hum of the car’s engine a steady backdrop to Bill’s swirling thoughts. The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and purple. The serene landscape outside the car windows contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions brewing inside Bill. Elias’s words echoed in his mind, each one a puzzle piece slowly fitting into place. But there was still so much he didn’t understand, so much left unsaid. Blake, ever perceptive, glanced at Bill from the driver’s seat. “You’re quiet, Master Bill. What’s on your mind?” Bill hesitated, his fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest. “Elias... he knew my dad, didn’t he?” Blake’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, but his expression remained calm. “What makes you say that?” Bill shrugged, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. “The way he talked about him. The way he looked at me. It was like... like he knew him. Really knew him.” Blake was silent for a long m

The drive back to the mansion was quieter than the journey to Elias’s house, but the silence between Bill and Blake was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and purple, and the first stars were beginning to twinkle in the fading light. Bill sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery, his mind still processing the lessons of the day. Blake drove with his usual precision, his hands steady on the wheel, his posture relaxed but alert. He glanced at Bill occasionally, his expression thoughtful, but he didn’t press. He knew Bill needed time to reflect, to let the lessons settle. After a while, Bill broke the silence, his voice quiet but steady. “Blake?” “Yes, Master Bill?” “Do you think... do you think I’ll ever stop feeling angry? About everything that’s happened?” Blake considered the question carefully

Bill decided to test out the knowledge he had gathered so far. The city’s most exclusive casino, The Golden Phoenix, was a glittering monument to opulence and excess. Its towering facade was adorned with intricate gold filigree, and the entrance was flanked by two massive statues of phoenixes, their wings spread wide as if ready to take flight. The interior was even more lavish, with crystal chandeliers casting a soft, golden glow over the sprawling gaming floor. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the faint tang of cigar smoke, and the sound of shuffling cards, spinning roulette wheels, and the occasional cheer of victory filled the space. Bill stepped through the doors, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, his hair neatly combed, and his expression a careful mask of calm. Beside him, Blake walked with his usual composure, his sharp eyes scanning the room with quiet

He was going through the mail, a task he usually left to Blake, but something had compelled him to do it himself today. As he sifted through the envelopes, one in particular caught his eye. It was made of thick, cream-colored paper, its surface smooth and unblemished. The address was written in elegant, flowing script, and there was no return address. Bill frowned, his curiosity piqued, and carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper, the same cream colored stock as the envelope. The message was brief, written in the same elegant script: {The House Left wing of southern England London, England, 50100 12th, Jan 1885. Mr. Billy Billions Equatorial Guinea. Wellington, U.S.A. 56009 Subject: Invitation to The House Dear Mr. Billy Billions, We hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. It is with great consideration that we extend to you a formal invitation to visit The House at your earliest convenience. Your presence is of utmost