I was hauled to the card table.
Derek's gaze locked on me—those familiar, vicious eyes.
I flinched away, but inwardly, I was perfectly calm.
Tonight's scene was my arrangement. Only this way would he drop every guard and sit across from me.
He thought he'd bleed me dry. He didn't know the blade was already at his own throat.
Before the cards were dealt, Derek spoke up.
"Boss, can I pat him down? Not that I don't trust you—I don't trust him..."
"Too much trouble. Here."
The three bosses wore leering grins. They held me down and stripped off my clothes piece by piece.
Minutes later, I stood there naked. Early spring, freezing—and my body was a patchwork of bruises.
"Heard you have a daughter. How old is she?"
Derek studied me like prey, certain that luck was still his.
After Derek shuffled the deck thoroughly, the cards were dealt. Two hole cards each; players could only call or fold, with the betting lead rotating.
Derek peeked at his hole cards. His face contorted with savage joy.
Two Kings.
Behind his back, the bosses signaled me his hand.
His luck was genuinely extraordinary—nearly unbeatable.
Too bad he was short on cash. As betting started, he frantically counted his chips—only a few thousand left.
He turned to the bosses for help.
The lead boss patted his shoulder. "How much do you want to bet?"
I glared at Derek. "Whatever you bet, I'll call."
That threat was like lighter fluid to him.
"A million... three million! The more the better!"
The bosses looked hesitant.
Derek nearly dropped to his knees, begging: "I'll win, I swear—just lend me this once. If I win, we split fifty-fifty... no, I take one, you take nine!"
After feigned deliberation, they agreed—on one condition: he had to sign a loan agreement.
"I'll sign! I'll sign!"
They produced a contract. Certain of victory, Derek didn't hesitate—he signed, pressed his thumbprint, and without even reading it, slammed the document onto the table as his stake.
"Three million. You in or out?"
"I'm in."
"What are you betting with?" His face was flushed with feverish excitement. "Put up your daughter. If I win, you deliver her to my doorstep. Think about it—good deal."
"She's not a bargaining chip. I'll gamble my life. But her—you can forget it."
Derek sneered. "What's the difference? Dead, she's still mine."
I picked up my hole cards and stared him down.
He was fully hooked. No need to keep playing weak.
"There is a difference." I locked eyes with him. "She's my child."
"You never should've provoked a father."
I did the same—signed a three-million loan agreement with the bosses, and used it as my stake.
His feverish excitement showed no sign of breaking.
"Reveal!" he roared.
In a sense, he wasn't wrong. If he won this hand, I'd be destitute, drowning in debt. And as my creditor, he could take anything he wanted from me.
Anything.
Assuming he won.
He leapt up and triumphantly flipped his hole cards—two Kings.
I didn't show mine.
"I want... to confirm one last thing." I said. "The car crash. Your parents were in on it too, weren't they?"
"Yeah, they were." In Derek's eyes, I was already a dead man. No reason to hide anything.
He scoffed. "We even bought funeral money. Looks like it won't go to waste after all."
I sighed softly.
I gave your family a chance, Derek. What a pity.
Under his gaze, I slowly, deliberately, turned over my cards.
Ace of hearts.
Ace of diamonds.
The highest pair possible.
The grin froze on his face. His mouth opened, but no words came. He stood there, rigid.
I picked up his loan agreement and waved it gently.
"Or you could just die."
"Dead men don't pay."
Derek crumpled, collapsing into his chair. Sweat rolled down his face. His body began to shake—an eerie, involuntary tremor.
There was one thing Derek would never understand.
How did I get two Aces?
I'd been stripped completely naked—nowhere to hide cards. He'd shuffled the deck himself, repeatedly.
The answer was simple.
I'd stuck two Aces beneath the card table. The moment he looked down to sign the contract, I'd swapped them in.
I didn't need to learn sleight of hand.
Manipulating human nature—that was my trick.
From the moment I decided on revenge, every event that followed had been my card trick.
From the very beginning, he'd already lost.
I dressed, wiped the blood from my face, took the contract, and left.
By the time Derek came to his senses, he'd realize with horror—the three bosses he'd leaned on. The three men he thought were his saviors—had vanished without a trace.
Of course, this was only the beginning.
Just lighting the fuse.
The next day, I found Victor Chen.
I handed him the loan agreements. Looking back, Derek had been so intoxicated by gambling that he hadn't questioned a contract produced on the spot—our carefully prepared excuses went unused.
Victor took the papers, grinning with satisfaction.
The lender's name on the contract was blank. He filled in his "financial company." From that day forward, the three-million debt belonged to Derek—not to us.
That was our deal. Pure profit, zero investment. He'd guard the secret forever.
But we had another arrangement, too.
Through our maneuvering, Derek had been made the shop's legal representative. The very next day, we used the shop to borrow over ten million from Victor.
Of course, Victor never paid out a cent, and we never received one. But that crushing debt was now squarely on Derek's shoulders.
Not a single dollar had actually moved through the entire scheme—yet Derek was already on the hook for millions in loan shark debt.
Victor offered to take me out for the night—anything I wanted, he could arrange.
I refused.
"I have two small requests," I said.
"Name them—ten thousand, if you want."
"This debt concerns only their family. Not their relatives, friends, or coworkers."
"You have my word."
I smiled. "Watch less Godfather. You're starting to sound like a tutor again."
"And the second?" Victor asked.
I was silent for a long moment.
"With this much debt... his whole life will be spent paying it off, won't it?"
Victor understood instantly.
"I'll make sure of it. He'll never leave this town."
The fuse was lit. The spectacular detonation began.
From the next day on, debt collectors showed up at Derek's house one after another. Tattooed toughs camped in his living room—smoking, playing cards, cursing up a storm.
They never laid a finger on anyone. But Derek's parents lived in constant terror.
Ironically, Derek couldn't take it. He grabbed a kitchen knife and slashed a few of the enforcers.
They called the police immediately.
They hadn't assaulted anyone, hadn't damaged property—just stayed, persistently, to collect a debt. Derek, on the other hand, was locked up for aggravated assault.
Adding yet another layer to his mountain of debt.
Victor threw in a bonus gift.
Shortly after Derek was locked up, his room was raided under the pretext of seizing assets to repay debts.
They tore through every drawer and surfaced Derek's entire collection of depraved materials.
Pages ripped free, scattered, carried on the wind—landing at the feet of gawking neighbors.
Word spread like wildfire. Through the small town of Millbrook, Derek's reputation was obliterated.
And one more thing: every device in Derek's home that could store photos—phones, computers, hard drives—was confiscated by Victor's crew under the same debt-repayment pretext.
He sent me a video.
Flames licking up, consuming every last piece of electronics.
The firelight was beautiful.
The flames of revenge kept burning.
To repay their debts, Derek's family was forced to sell their house and pawn their car. Derek had lost everything.
With his reputation destroyed, no one would help him.
His only option was the work Victor arranged—"voluntary" labor in a coal mine. Dust ate into his lungs, from dawn to dusk. Four hours of rest a day.
He wouldn't die. But he'd wish he could.
A lazy man by nature, he was soon reduced to something barely human.
Even his parents had to work three jobs a day to help their son pay what he owed.
Millions in loan-shark debt. Millions in profit. Victor would never let go—not until he'd squeezed out their last drop of blood.
Whether they lived or died no longer concerned me.
I'd already returned to Elena's family home.
My three roommates were waiting for me. They could finally shed their businessman disguises and stop worrying every second. We drank freely—rare, genuine relief.
"That day, when you guys beat me up... you really didn't hold back," I said, rubbing the bruises on my face.
"Commit to the bit. If we hadn't sold it, would Derek have dared sit across from you?"
"So when you stripped me—who copped a feel?"
"That was definitely Tom. Tom, you need to fix that habit."
"Ugh—Sophie, pretend you didn't hear that. Your dad's begging you!"
We drank and joked, everything felt normal again.
"But man—you're wiped out, and you lost a house. Victor made a fortune through you. Why not ask him for a cut? He wouldn't say no."
I was quiet for a beat, then shook my head.
"His money comes from Derek's family—and from people who've been ruined. I don't want any of it."
I paused. "I want a clean start."
"Dad's right!" Sophie chimed in.
We turned to look at her. I scooped her up and kissed her cheek, surprised and moved.
"Listen, the three of us could chip in, at least help you get—"
"Don't." I cut in. "You've already done more for me than I can ever repay."
"So what's the plan?"
"Earn it back. Buy back my parents' house. Rebuild my savings."
I smiled. "Making money's got to be easier than paying it off."