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Betrayed at the Table, I Cleaned Out My Fiancé Novel Cover

Betrayed at the Table, I Cleaned Out My Fiancé

On the eve of her wedding, Joanna discovers her fiancé, Shawn Ford, intentionally losing their marital home renovation funds to his godsister, Tiffany Lynch, during a poker game. While the crowd mocks Joanna's modest salary, she refuses to remain a passive victim of their disrespect. Instead, she pulls up a chair and wagers a high-value property deed she purchased in cash, challenging Shawn to risk everything he owns in a final, high-stakes confrontation.
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Chapter 2

"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.

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