The Runaway Asset: Betraying My Billionaire Father

Cassius reached into his pocket and produced a coin.

It was silver, heavy. It looked old.

"Heads, I help you find the boy. Tails, you go back to New York tonight. And you never say my name again."

The stakes were her life. Her freedom.

Elodie stared at the coin.

"That's not fair. I don't want to go back," she argued.

"Then don't bet," Cassius said. He moved to put the coin away.

"Wait," Elodie cried out.

She looked at his hands. Large. Scarred knuckles. He could manipulate a coin easily.

"I'll take the bet," she said.

"But I flip it."

Cassius laughed. It was a low rumble that vibrated in her chest.

"Don't trust me?"

"Not even a little," she said.

He handed her the coin. It was warm from his touch.

Elodie positioned the coin on her thumb. Her hand was sweating.

Sofia was watching from the balcony above, her mouth open in horror.

Elodie took a deep breath.

She flicked her thumb.

The silver coin spun into the air, catching the strobe lights. It seemed to hang there for an eternity.

She caught it on the back of her left hand and slapped her right hand over it.

Her heart was pounding in her throat. She could feel the faint, tacky residue of the clear lip gloss she'd smeared on her palm in the bathroom. It wasn't enough to be seen, but it was enough to prevent the coin from bouncing, giving her the split-second purchase she needed to feel the sharp relief of Liberty's profile. The eagle was facing up. It was heads.

Cassius leaned in. His eyes were gleaming.

"Call it."

"Heads," Elodie whispered.

She slowly lifted her hand.

The coin sat on her skin, showing the profile of a Liberty head.

Elodie let out a breath, her shoulders sagging with relief.

Cassius stared at the coin. Then he looked at her.

He didn't look disappointed. He looked... entertained. He reached out, his thumb brushing across the center of her palm where the coin had been. He pulled his thumb back, holding it up between them. An almost invisible sheen clung to his skin.

He smirked, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. He knew.

"Heads it is," he said softly. He picked up his glass and raised it to her in a mock toast.

"Welcome to the game, Elodie."

And as he stood and walked away, leaving her trembling in the booth, it was a reminder that her independence wasn't built on strength or strategy.