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Chapter_195
Yvette’s casual yet confident demeanor was on full display as she lounged on the couch, holding the glass of juice that Frankie had so eagerly offered. She glanced lazily at the scattered cards, her fingers lightly tapping them with a nonchalant air, as if she had all the time in the world.
When she asked, “How much are you betting?” it wasn’t a simple question—it was a calculated move. She knew Frankie was no fool, and it was clear that his confidence had been growing with every round. Yet, Yvette was unbothered, serene in her indifference.
Frankie, caught off guard by the question, paused for a beat before Sienna chimed in, explaining the stakes. “Yve, it’s Frankie who set up the game. The cap is 150 thousand dollars.”
Yvette’s gaze flicked over the chips in front of each player, taking in the varying stacks. Chris had the least, barely a few chips. Sienna and Bruce each had a modest pile, while Frankie’s stack was nearly overflowing—a clear indication of who had been winning.
Frankie’s mind raced as he saw Yvette’s calmness, his thoughts already starting to shift. I can’t get that house back from Mr. Chavez, but maybe I can win a little money from Yvette. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he extended a warm invitation. “Yve, do you play? Want to join us?”
Yvette simply nodded, her smirk still present as she joined the table, her movements fluid and deliberate. The others continued their game, but there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere once she settled in. Frankie, now feeling more relaxed with her at the table, was soon bringing snacks, juice, and sweets from the fridge, as if trying to create a casual, friendly environment.
As the game progressed, it became clear that Frankie had found himself in familiar territory, winning eight out of the first ten rounds. His pride swelled, and with a boastful grin, he teased, “Yve, it seems you’re not good at playing cards. If we’d known, we wouldn’t have played for 150 thousand dollars.”
Bruce dropped a deuce on the table, his expression unwavering. He didn’t seem concerned, but his mind was likely focused elsewhere.
Yvette, however, showed no hint of distress. She propped her cheek on her hand and took a leisurely sip of juice, her gaze never leaving the game. She looked up at Frankie, a sly grin appearing as she asked, “How much do you want to play for?”
Frankie’s eyes lit up at the opportunity. He thought for a moment, then, amid the gazes of everyone else at the table, held up three fingers. “Three million dollars.”
Yvette toyed with the cards in her hands, her posture still laid-back, her gaze casual as ever. “3 million dollars? Okay.”
A brief silence filled the room as Chris took out his phone to transfer the money. I may not know how to play, but I sure know how to lose, he thought. The other players weren’t fazed by the large sum—this was just a game to them, a game they had all played many times before. For Frankie, however, this was a challenge he couldn’t pass up.
Sienna shuffled the cards again, and the stakes were higher than ever. The game shifted to comparing card values, and now everyone’s chips were worth three million dollars. The pressure mounted.
By the final round, the results were clear—Frankie had won 500 thousand dollars, Bruce had won 100 thousand dollars, and Yvette had lost her entire 150 thousand. But the real tension was about to start.
Emmett appeared, descending from upstairs, a professional demeanor on him as he served as the dealer. After dealing five cards to each player, he announced, “Place your bets.” The atmosphere grew charged with excitement.
Chris, Bruce, and Sienna each threw in their chips without much thought. Yvette, however, didn’t even glance at her cards. Her eyes were half-closed, her fingers lightly tapping the table, seemingly bored by the whole affair.
Frankie, on the other hand, looked at his cards and, with a satisfied smile, believed he had the game in the bag. His hand—a straight flush up to the King—was nearly unbeatable. His confidence swelled. He looked at Yvette, convinced she hadn’t even glanced at her cards. How could she possibly have a better hand than me?
Yvette’s lazy gaze lifted towards him, her expression calm. “Single round to decide the winner?”
Frankie frowned, internally debating. I have a straight flush. Unless she has an Ace-high straight flush, I’m sure to win. Yet, something about Yvette’s calmness made him second-guess. How could she be so confident without even looking at her cards?
Still, his arrogance won out, and he declared, “I’m all in.”
Yvette, unfazed, responded simply, “Okay.”
With both of them all-in, Emmett cleared his throat, eager to finalize the round. “Since both Yve and Frankie agreed, let’s decide this in one round. Who’s going to show their cards first?”
Frankie, full of himself, eagerly revealed his cards. “Straight flush to the King. Unless you have an Ace-high straight flush, your three million dollars will be gone in less than a minute. Thank you, Yve, and thanks everyone for watching.”
The others weren’t too shocked. They knew Frankie’s background. He’d learned from the best, a master gambler in Mysonna, and had inherited a decent share of his skills. But this time, the odds weren’t in his favor.
Yvette set down her juice, her movements slow and deliberate. She raised an eyebrow before she turned her head, her voice as calm and cool as ever. “Thank you for the three million dollars. Sorry for your expenses today.”
Emmett, Bruce, and Chris all froze, unsure of what to make of her comment. Sienna, eager to see Yvette’s cards, eagerly flipped them over one by one. What she revealed was a perfect straight flush—higher than Frankie’s hand, an Ace-high flush that trumped his King-high flush.
Frankie stared, stunned and utterly defeated. “Where’s the so-called heir to the master gambler’s legacy? Where’s the next big shot in the casino scene? Do I just lose like that?” He had been outplayed, completely.
Yvette, now standing up with grace, shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m going upstairs. You guys take your time playing.”
She glanced at Frankie, whose spirit had been thoroughly crushed, and with a small smile, she offered, “You did pretty well.”
But Frankie couldn’t find any solace in her words. Thank you? he thought. But why do I feel no comfort at all?
The rest of the group simply stared after Yvette as she left. They were speechless, but in that silence, it was clear. Yvette had been both casual and precise with her teasing, and the way she played the game made it clear—she was not to be underestimated.
The next day, at Flying Fish’s apartment, she was abruptly jolted awake from a deep slumber when the doorbell rang. Groggy and disheveled, she stomped to the door, ready to yell at whoever dared interrupt her beauty sleep.
When she opened the door, her mouth dropped. Standing there was Silas Walson, the renowned dean of the medical lab in Mysonna, impeccably dressed and completely composed. Flying Fish froze, realizing the gravity of the situation.
Why is Silas here? she thought, panic rising. She had a history with him—one she wasn’t eager to revisit. She had once gone undercover as a maid in his house, only to steal an antique vase.
Silas, the top expert in poisons, could easily recognize her, and if he did, it could mean her end—just like Charles. The thought made her skin crawl.
But then, her mind clicked. Wait… Boss mentioned someone would bring the antidote today. Could it be Silas? The pieces started falling into place, and she quickly realized that this wasn’t just any visit—it was a pivotal moment.
With her heart pounding, she quickly grabbed her phone and dialed Yvette, asking with caution, “Boss, do you know who’s bringing the antidote for Charles?”
Yvette, having just gotten up, responded in her usual calm, clear voice, “Is it Silas?”
The realization hit Flying Fish with full force. Silas was here, and Yvette had orchestrated everything.
