Fyodor Dostoevsky The Gambler

“Louder,” he said while watching me like a predator ready to strike, “I-I belong to you,” I stuttered while swallowing the lump formed in my throat. “To?” he gritted his teeth, “Nikolai Vasiliev,” *** Nikolai Vasiliev, the most feared and respected don of the Russian mafia. He was known as the ruthless king of the mafia whose world revolves around blood and lust. Love is forbidden to him as he promised himself not to love again. Juliana Mitchell, a brave, stubborn, hardworking and beautiful woman leaving her normal life, dreaming to find her happily ever after. All her life she was constantly reminded that she’s useless and ugly compared to her younger sister which made her doubt herself all the time. One encounter with the Russian don changed her life completely, pulling her into a web of lies, manipulation and pure torture. She’s ready to do anything to get away from his clutches but the question is, Will he let someone walk away from him the second time?

Heiress Jovie Wimberly has a stealing problem. She steals from stores, people, and even her parents. When she's sent to group therapy to get to the root of her issue, she doesn't count on stealing Reno's heart. Reno Valenzuela has a gambling problem. He's lost all his money to casinos, horse races and ridiculous bets. What he doesn't bet on is falling head over heels for Jovie. When Reno's debt catches up with him and Jovie decides to leave her fiance, they head on a cross country trip to save Reno's life. With hitmen and Jovie's fiancé after them, they embark on a crime-filled, life changing journey that might actually change them for the better. Will the hitmen get to Reno? Will Jovie's fiancé bring her back home? Should they have just stayed in group therapy?

Elena tried to get out of his grip but he was too heavy for her. “I am married.” She screamed. “You are not, not anymore.” He spoke as he bit her neck to the extent that she felt as if he will snatch out her flesh. “Please, let me go.” “That husband of yours lost you on a bet. I am the winner, and you belong to me. Just me.” She knew what Aslan was saying was right. John had indeed lost her on a poker table as if she was nothing but another of his belongings just like his watch or an old table. She pushed his chest with all her might but failed. It was her end. In this world where women were progressing, she was traded off on a poker table. She smirked at her fate. She was nothing. Nothing, but a lost bet.

Every Christmas Eve, the heir of the Marco mafia family—Adrian Marco, must follow the family tradition: Draw a name to decide whether he’s allowed to marry me. Because I, Irene Cast, am not mafia-born. Unless he draws the slip with my name on it, he can’t take me as his wife. For four years, Adrian has drawn four times. And not once did he draw my name. I always thought he fought with his family because of me— that he was willing to risk losing his position as the Don, just to choose me. Every time he failed, he held me so tightly and whispered, “It’s okay. There’s always next year.” And I loved him so much it hurt. Hurt enough that I was willing to wait, year after year. This year, I told myself: If he still doesn’t draw my name… I’ll secretly switch the result. I sneaked to the door of Adrian’s study, and heard his younger brother ask: “Don… every year you do draw Irene's name. Why do you pretend you didn’t? Is it because you still can’t let Sera go?” But he simply said, in a flat voice, “Sera needs me for something urgent. Do what you always do: swap Irene’s name for a blank one.” He walked out without looking back. Instead of swapping, he tossed the blank slip into the trash, left the one with my name on the table, and hurried after Adrian. I went inside, picked up the blank slip from the trash, and replaced the one with my name. Watching my own name fall into the garbage. Adrian…I don’t want to wait and marry you anymore. I’ll grant you your choice.

Everyone in the city knows that Michael Shaw despises me to my core. He even takes pleasure in humiliating me in public at banquets. He sneers, "My family made its fortune through gambling. Nancy Jackson is just a pretty face who can't even recognize all the suits in a deck of cards. Marrying her would be worse than marrying an inflatable doll that at least reacts!" Still, the marriage agreement between our families comes first. On top of that, the fake heiress, who is his true love, can't have children. So, he forces me to gamble with him. "If you lose, I want your womb to bear me a child. You have to get a C-section without anesthesia," he demands cruelly. I've long had enough of him always giving me a hard time. A soft laugh escapes my lips, and I reply, "Fine. If I win, then I want your manhood, Michael." The crowd bursts into laughter. Everyone says that I'm overestimating myself. Everyone knows Michael is the best gambler in the city. I lower my eyes and say nothing. Indeed, he is one of the best. After all, five years ago on a stormy night, I was the one who held those hands and taught him how to cheat for the first time to stay alive.

The Cossini family has a strict rule about marriage—the future don can only marry a woman of equal social standing. But Marco Cossini falls madly in love with me and declares that he won't marry anyone but me. In a fit of anger, his father, Don Sergio, locks him up in the dungeon and uses corporal punishment on him. Even when he emerges covered in blood, he still puts a ring on my finger, saying, "Don't be scared, Helena. You're my entire world." Later on, he inherits the position of Don and organizes an extravagant wedding ceremony for me. After seven years of marriage, I finally get pregnant, but the doctor tells me I need to undergo expensive treatment to keep my baby. I call Marco in a panic, but he doesn't even let me finish what I have to say before replying, "Same rules as always—we'll decide the amount blind-box style. Pick a number from one to nine, and I'll give you the corresponding allowance." "I pick one." Marco has always told me that box number one has the most money. Three seconds later, I get a bank transfer of exactly 9.90 dollars. "It's not my fault. Alessia discovered that you always choose one. You messed up. Choose a different number next time." Alessia Lombardo has taken a bullet for Marco three times before. She's also obsessed with blind boxes. Marco constantly feels indebted to her, so he plays along with her, letting her decide everything in the Cossini family with blind boxes. But of course, he won't be that stingy with me, his own wife. Feeling hopeful still, I try to tell him that I'm pregnant, but the call cuts off. A sharp pain shoots through my abdomen, and my vision goes dark. I lose consciousness. When my eyes open once more, I find that too much time has been wasted. I've lost the baby. In my grief, I wipe my tears away and book a flight abroad that leaves in seven days. I don't love you anymore, Marco.