Marco lowered himself into the velvet chair opposite the smug-faced man, the heavy green felt between them like a battlefield waiting to be painted in blood and shame. The officiator, a tall, slim man in a tailored black suit with a sharp bowtie, placed the deck neatly in the center and tapped it twice, commanding the attention of everyone nearby.“Gentlemen,” the officiator said smoothly. “This is a private match. No interruptions. Cards will be dealt instantly, and bets honored. Do we agree?”Marco’s eyes did not leave the man across from him. His wife’s companion. The bastard had one arm curled tightly around Elena’s waist as if she were his prized property. She stood half-leaning against him, smirking, her red lips curling in delight at Marco’s humiliation.“I agree,” Marco said evenly.“I never lose,” the man responded, grinning. His voice oozed arrogance. “But I agree.”The officiator nodded and began to shuffle, his hands precise, and professional. The crowd pressed closer, c

The officiator’s face drained of color as Sal’s thunderous voice boomed through the casino hall.“Who are you calling an infidel?” Sal demanded, his voice echoing against the high golden ceiling. The room went utterly still, everyone’s eyes darting between the powerful Don Sal of the Fortuna billionaire club and the officiator who had foolishly spat an insult at Marco.The officiator’s mouth worked silently for a moment, then he bowed his head quickly. “M...my apologies, Don Sal. It was a slip of tongue...I didn’t mean...”He turned hastily toward Marco, forcing a thin, nervous smile. “Please forgive me...I lost my composure. But you must understand... I cannot comprehend why you would accuse me falsely of something so grave.”The tension in the room shifted like waves. Eyes that had been locked on the officiator now turned toward Marco, their gazes sharp, skeptical, and full of doubt.“He’s only trying to save face,” someone muttered near the back.“Dante has never lost a game in

The room was silent except for the soft, rhythmic beep of the machines beside his mother. The faint medicinal smell mixed with the familiar scent of her hair oil still clung to the pillow. Marco’s head rested on the edge of the bed, one hand still wrapped gently around her thin wrist. Her pulse had steadied beneath his fingers; the violent tremors that had seized her body minutes earlier had calmed into soft breaths that would have made a bypasser argue she had a crisis earlier.For a long moment he simply stayed there, his dark eyes fixed on her face, drinking in the sight of her peaceful expression.When he finally exhaled, it was like letting go of a weight he had been carrying on his chest. But then he felt something else, the guilt he had accumulated for not being with her all these days. While he played the student to Antonio, his poor mother had been here suffering from needing him. He thought of how he had struggled to keep her alive and the humiliation he received from his wi

Marco tugged the apron into place, feeling the unfamiliar rough fabric against his chest. At least this was better than the lacy one he had been forced to wear during his humiliation at the laundry shop.He glanced briefly at the mirror-like panel behind the counter and barely recognized himself. He could not tell what felt off but regardless, he had to work. Just a black apron with stains from old coffee spills was enough to force him to start.He started trying to do what he had been shown by the manager but he could not quite fathom or focus. His mind was clearly scattered across the coffee shop and he started panicking.Diane, the manager, wasted no time noticing him in his confused state.“Come here,” she said, motioning him toward the steaming machines. Her voice was brisk, clipped, and the tone of someone who had no patience for mistakes. It was a shift from the one that had spoken to him earlier explaining things out and he started wondering if the guy who had quit earlier ha

Marco pressed the phone closer to his ear, pacing slowly across the small room. Elena’s voice poured out, sharp as broken glass, every word dipped in venom.“There is no way I am owing you five hundred million dollars,” Marco said firmly, struggling to keep his tone steady. “I worked while I stayed at your house. I contributed in every way I could. I did chores!”Elena’s laugh was harsh and humorless. “Tell that to the birds, Marco. You were nothing but dead weight. I carried you all those years. You stayed under my roof, rent free. Ate my food. Used my money. And now you want to argue?”“You know that’s not true,” Marco countered, his hand tightening around the edge of the table. “I never sat idle. I hustled. I helped. Don’t twist it. And I never took your money. David took everything!”“Don’t bring my brother into this, you liar. I don’t care how you dress it up,” she snapped. “You’ll drop my money or I’ll drag you to court. And don’t think I won’t win. I’ll bury you under debts and