House Always Wins

"Dad, can you let me run the World Cup book this year?"

Sophie Bell's voice was sweet, but her ambition was impossible to hide.

The huge living room went quiet the moment she said it.

Everyone knew why. The World Cup brought global traffic, and for the Foster family, it was the most important six-month revenue line of the year. Whoever controlled that book was, by default, the next core heir of the family business.

My father held an unlit cigar between his fingers and looked at her with helpless indulgence.

"Sophie, don't make trouble. This is serious family business. Let your brother handle it."

That was how it had always been.

Sophie's eyes reddened at once. She pouted, offended.

"Dad, trust me. My intuition is really strong."

My stepmother, Marissa, moved in smoothly and wrapped her arm around my father's.

"Honey, just trust Sophie once. She's never asked you for anything before. If she's this confident, maybe she really can do it. Besides, she's been around you, Harbor City's casino magnate, for so many years. She must have picked up something."

The two of them worked together perfectly, one pleading, one coaxing.

I saw my father's eyes soften.

Looking at Sophie's wounded little face, he was clearly about to cave.

But after a moment of thought, he still shook his head.

"No. This isn't a small matter. It involves tens of billions in capital flow.

"If you like it that much, Sophie, take some pocket money and place a little bet for fun."

That sentence stung her deeply.

She stamped her foot, all wounded pride and childish fury.

"I don't like you anymore, Dad!"

Her tone was stubborn, reckless, and full of the arrogance of someone who had never really lost anything.

"None of you believe me, right? Then just wait. This World Cup, I'll make all of you see what I'm capable of."

The living room fell silent.

My father and Marissa only exchanged helpless smiles, treating it as a child's tantrum.

Only I knew better.

She wasn't throwing a tantrum.

In my last life, she had used that exact refusal to back down to carve out a path to godhood during the World Cup.

Back then, no one in the family, or even in all of Harbor City, believed her.

Everyone thought the same thing. What could a girl who barely knew the rules of soccer possibly do?

Reality slapped everyone across the face.

Sophie called sixteen matches in a row. Every single score was perfect.

Meanwhile, I stayed up all night reviewing tactics, studying player form, and modeling every player's emotional state and chance of making a mistake.

But every result I worked myself half to death for was always spoken by Sophie one step before me.

The moment I settled on a score in my mind, Sophie would announce the exact same answer first.

Once or twice could be luck. Sixteen straight wins made everyone shut up.

The whole internet went insane.

And I, the former prodigy who had never missed, became the biggest joke.

People whispered that I couldn't even compare to a stepsister who had joined the family halfway through.

I went from the dazzling heir of the Foster family to an abandoned son no one cared about.

Only at the moment before my death did I finally learn the truth.

She wasn't gifted. She wasn't a lucky charm.

She had been listening to my thoughts in real time, stealing every bit of my work and every result I bled for.

Now that I had been reborn, she still wanted to climb over my bones again?

Dream on.

I looked around the room, then spoke calmly.

"Dad, since Sophie is so confident, let her run the Foster family's World Cup book this year."