Betrayed at the Table, I Cleaned Out My Fiancé

Shawn's company had just gotten off the ground. While it held some promise, it was a mere drop in the bucket compared to Simpson Group's empire. The difference between them was like night and day.

If he won this hand, he would rise to the top in one fell swoop, becoming an overnight tycoon.

As for losing?

The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. I had already lost everything that night. To him, I was nothing more than a fool whose only purpose was to hand over my fortune.

"Shawn…" Tiffany was also overwhelmed by the staggering wealth at stake, but a shred of reason still clung to her. "Isn't this… too much? What if—"

"There are no 'what ifs'!" Shawn cut her off sharply, his eyes fixed greedily on the agreement. "She's had rotten luck all night, and she doesn't even know the first thing about the game. This is a heaven-sent fortune falling right into our laps! We'd be idiots to walk away from a windfall like this!"

He turned to me, his gaze frenzied. "Fine! I'll bet with you! But how do I know this agreement is real?"

I took out my phone and initiated a video call to Simpson Group's legal director.

A few minutes later, the lawyer confirmed my identity and the authenticity of my shares.

Shawn had completely lost his grip on reality. He immediately waved over a server to bring a pen and paper. Thinking that it still wasn't formal enough, he called over the manager to act as a witness.

"One hand. Winner takes all," Shawn said through gritted teeth, his hands trembling. "Whoever clears their hand first wins."

Even though she was terrified, Tiffany succumbed to Shawn's oppressive stare. With trembling fingers, she placed her property deed and her earlier winnings on the table.

She removed the emerald bracelet and placed it in the center of the table, where it sat looking small and lonely against the mountain of assets.

The agreement was signed, and fingerprints were pressed onto it.

The game resumed.

This time, even the onlookers held their breath. Most people might only witness a multi-billion-dollar gamble like this once in a lifetime.

Shawn was drenched in a cold sweat, the back of his shirt completely soaked.

Every time he drew a card, he hesitated for what felt like an eternity, terrified of making a single wrong move.

Tiffany looked even worse. She was as pale as a ghost, her hands trembling so violently that she could barely keep her cards organized.

Then there was me. I took my time sorting my hand, a faint smirk playing on my lips.

The mask of the flustered, impatient, and clumsy amateur I had worn for the last few rounds shattered in an instant. In its place was a composure and coldness that radiated from within.

This was the true presence of Simpson Group's heiress.

This was also the aura of the "Rummy Queen" who had once swept the high-stakes underground tables of Wegas.

I was never some clueless office worker. During my years studying abroad, my favorite pastime had been mastering the odds and reading every hand.

Rummy? That was child's play to me.

In the first round, Shawn was still trying to feed Tiffany the cards she needed.

He discarded a Three of Diamonds, shooting Tiffany a meaningful look, signaling her to take it.

"I'll take that," I uttered the words calmly, cutting off Tiffany's play.

Then, I casually tossed a Nine of Spades onto the discard pile.

Shawn froze. He didn't need a Nine of Spades, and the rhythm of their collusion was instantly broken.

Over the next few rounds, no matter what coordination Shawn tried, I disrupted it precisely.

Every draw was mine for the taking. Every meld, mine for the making.

The entire momentum of the game was now firmly in my grasp. I was like a skilled hunter, watching two trapped beasts struggle in my snare.

Panic began to set in for Shawn.

He realized that I wasn't just playing; I was toying with them. Every card I laid down felt like a calculated strike, landing exactly where it would cripple his hand.

"You… You were pretending all along?"

Shawn pointed at me with a trembling finger, his voice a ragged rasp.

I ignored him and drew a card.

I traced the face of the card with my thumb, my smile widening.

"Shawn, do you know the true meaning of despair?"

I placed the card face-down on the table without flipping it over.

"Despair is when you think you've finally grabbed a rope to pull yourself into heaven, only to look up and realize that it's actually a noose."

His face turned deathly pale. "What do you mean?"

Tiffany was already breaking down in tears. "Shawn, I don't want to do this anymore. I want to go home."

"Too late."

I slammed the card face-up on the table.