Betrayed at the Table, I Cleaned Out My Fiancé

The room fell dead silent.

Shawn Ford's hand trembled visibly as he held his cigarette, sending gray ash flying onto his designer trousers.

Tiffany Lynch's eyes gleamed with naked greed as they locked onto the deed.

"Joanna, have you lost your mind? That's a 20-million-dollar property," she gasped.

I smiled and pushed the deed toward the center of the table. "Why? Are you scared to accept the bet?"

Shawn's expression darkened. He stubbed out his cigarette hard in the ashtray.

"Joanna, why are you making a scene? Put that away right now. Don't embarrass yourself here."

"I'm not making a scene."

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "Since you keep saying that we're all family and shouldn't stand on ceremony, then as your fiancee, do I still need permission play a few hands?"

Tiffany immediately grabbed Shawn's sleeve, giving it a playful tug.

"Shawn, since Joanna wants to play, let's humor her. It's just moving money from one pocket to another. It all stays in the family anyway."

Her scheme was plain on her face.

Shawn looked at Tiffany, then back at the deed. The initial hesitation in his eyes quickly sharpened into a cold, ruthless glint.

"Fine," he snapped. "If you're so eager to throw your money away, I won't stop you. But let's get one thing straight. There are no couples at this Rummy table. If you lose, don't come crying to me."

I nodded. "Fair enough."

"Then let's deal."

The rhythmic snap-snap-snap of the deck being shuffled filled the room. I arranged my cards with clumsy fingers, and I was so uncoordinated that one slipped and fluttered to the floor.

Tiffany let out a mocking giggle. "Joanna, do you even know the rules? Need me to give you a quick lesson?"

"I'm good," I said, bending down to retrieve the card. My expression remained a mask of cool indifference. "It's mostly just luck anyway."

In the first round, I played without any strategy.

I didn't take the card when I should have, didn't lay down my melds when the timing was right, and I even discarded a winning card just to hand the next player the round.

Within half an hour, the stack of chips in front of me had dwindled by half.

Shawn's brow finally smoothed out, replaced by a look of sheer disdain. "Give it up, Joanna. Don't push your luck. I told you, this takes a certain kind of talent. You're too stiff to ever get the hang of it."

Tiffany was completely drunk on her winning streak, squeezing every single card before flipping it over and babbling excitedly, "Oh my god, another monster! I'm on an absolute heater tonight!"

She looked at me, her eyes dripping with a winner's arrogance. "Why don't we just call it, Joanna? I can see how much this is hurting you. If you lose that deed to me, where are you going to stay tonight? I'd hate to see you out on the street."

The people around us started making snide remarks as well.

"Joanna, Shawn's only humoring you because he spoils you."

"Exactly. What's a good girl like you doing pretending to be some card shark? Just go home and get some beauty sleep before you lose the clothes off your back."

I ignored them. I just stared at my cards, acting as if I were lost in desperate thought.

"Keep dealing," I said, pushing my remaining chips into the center. "We're nowhere near done."

…

Tiffany's luck remained ridiculously hot, and Shawn was blatantly soft-playing her.

If Tiffany was chasing a run, Shawn would save the card she needed until his turn, then discard it for her to pick up. And if she were building a set, he would sacrifice his own hand to help her complete it.

In a two-against-one setup like this, the lone person was meant to lose.

Before long, my side of the table was completely empty. Tiffany could barely contain her glee as she reached for the deed.