They Played Dirty. I Played Deadly.

Jenson's POV

I’d seen this trick before. I lived through it in my past life.

“Jenson! Please, help me! I don’t want to lose my hand!” My mother sobbed uncontrollably as they dragged her forward.

I stared at her, then at Cecilia. “Why, Cecilia? Why would you do this?”

I wanted to know what she had done to me for Martin to know every card in my hand.

I needed to find it out.

She shrugged, calm as ever, and replied, “What could I possibly do? You simply weren’t good enough. The man I want has to be a winner, and you’re not anymore. I had to think about my future, you know.”

As soon as she said that, Martin wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear, “Babe, tonight, I’ll make you feel like you’re in heaven.”

Then he turned to me with a smirk. “Alright, let’s keep going. Let’s see if you’ve got the guts to follow through.”

I looked at the cards in my hand, and there was no doubt; he knew what I was holding.

So I leaned back in my chair instead of calling, then scanned the room.

I suspected the obstruction behind me. Maybe it had a hidden camera. And Martin’s glasses were probably linked to it somehow.

If Cecilia hadn’t tampered with me directly, then that was the only explanation that made sense.

“I have one condition,” I said slowly. “Clear out everything behind me. I need to make sure you’re not spying on my hand through some hidden camera.”

As I said that, the room went still.

Even Martin’s smug expression faltered. Then the others around us nodded, murmuring in agreement.

But he only scoffed, “Someone’s been watching too many movies.”

“Believe what you want,” I said coolly. “But I’m not playing unless it’s cleared.”

“Fine,” he said after a beat, turning to the staff. “Move everything behind him.”

The staff did as he asked, clearing out the clutter behind my seat.

After that, he asked, “All set, Jenson. Can we start now?”

Only then did I nod and even requested, “Change the game. We’re playing Texas Hold’em.”

Martin agreed without hesitation. No matter what I chose, he acted like he already owned the outcome.

And so, the dealer started dealing.

I got a 7 and a Jack, and the latter was my hidden card. Martin’s visible card was a 3, while his hidden card remained unknown.

I had the higher hand, so I got to place the first bet.

“One million,” I said, pushing my chips forward.

Martin smiled and nudged Cecilia. “Babe, do me a favor. Push the chips in.”

She giggled and sat up, casually shoving his bet forward.

The dealer dealt the next round.

I got an 8, and Martin’s visible card was another 3.

“Looks like Martin’s gonna win this one again,” someone in the crowd muttered.

“Three million,” Cecilia said sweetly, raising the bet for the man in her lap.

She thought I would back down.

But I firmly said, “Call,” and pushed in my chips.

This time, there were no cameras behind me. If he still won, it would mean he was simply better. But I didn’t buy it.

“Still playing tough, huh? You think you’re the King of Gambling again?”

“Keep going like this and you’ll lose everything you’ve got left.”

Despite the jeers, I stayed calm and focused only on the game.

The next round, I got a 9 and Martin’s was Ace.

“Still the biggest hand on the table. Jenson’s getting crushed,” someone commented.

“Five million!” he announced, grinning.

“You still daring enough to call?” he taunted, gently nudging Cecilia off his lap like she was a prop he no longer needed.

I looked up and locked eyes with him, slowly twisting the ring on my finger.

“Call,” I said coldly.

This wasn’t just a card game. It was a battle of minds.

“He’s really going all the way?”

“Guy doesn’t know when to quit.”

“Like he has a choice. If he folds, his mother loses a hand.”

Martin lit a cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke.

“Final round,” he said to the dealer.

The last cards were drawn, and I got a 10, while Martin’s was another 3.

At that, the tension in the room exploded, and even the air seemed to hold its breath.