The Gambler Novels & Stories

"When a gambler puts all his wealth on the line, there is no turning back." "What do you mean? Do you have other information?" He smiled lightly and calmly. "An insider told me that the person in charge of the Eastwood land is a real gambler." Her eyes lit up. "When a gambler meets a gambler, things won't end well for either of them!" "That's right. Let's just wait and see." After listening to Xander, Grace felt relieved. She went closer to him, hugged his arm, and said coquettishly, "Xander, your source of information is faster than mine. Are there any contacts you can share with me?"

It would be a waste of affection for him to grieve for her any longer. **** The huge gambling boat belonging to The Garcia’s was sailing slowly in the open sea. It was a different kind of boat. There were so many different kinds of bets. Except for gold and silver, you could bet on anything you thought was more important than money, such as love, loyalty, and human life. The gambler’s vessel, richly decorated and furnished with all kinds of gambling, was a paradise of high society. There were several expensive wines and champagnes, music, saxophone playing, bunny girls everywhere.

"Looking for Gringo, have you seen him?" "Must be involved with Shay's father's scheme," Jake said. "What about Shay's father?" he stopped to talk to the girl. "Oh, her dad is hopeless, isn't he? He owed Fat again!" Shay's father was addicted to gambling and often asked Fat, a loan shark from a neighborhood far away, for money. Fat was the only one who not only lent money but also split it into installments so that those who borrowed from him could pay in installments. However, Fredo, Shay's father, borrowed more before even paying off his old debts, and the last time Shay spoke to him, she told him that her father owed Fat nearly ten thousand.

"Oh my god, I've never seen a match at this level end in under ten minutes. They're definitely the dark horse of this tournament!" "Wait, isn't that LeoWinter's ID? I think I've seen someone streaming with a very similar playstyle before." "Yes, yes! That streamer with the really edgy name… I think it was Checkmate Zero!" Madison suddenly turned her head. "Did you say Checkmate Zero?" Her match slot was scheduled relatively late, and her coordination with Bruce had been mediocre at best over the past six months. She had originally entered this competition without much expectation of winning. But only she knew the truth. She had abandoned everything just to come here and see the streamer she

I lost it too long ago. “Please—” I pulled the trigger and watched the light leave his eyes. His body dropped to the ground like a sack of tomatoes. Blood splattered onto the creaking, rusty floor of his crappy as fuck house. I could practically smell the stench of his poverty. This is what gambling does to you. It eats you up from the inside out and leaves you a shell, a hollow of yourself.

He leaned closer and said in a mocking tone, “You might want to stop sneaking around with that guy called Steve. You’re lucky Thames is too busy drowning in debts to notice. If he ever finds out you’ve been cheating all this while, not even money will save you.” Lucia’s eyes widened. Her heart skipped a beat. Cheating? Lia gasped. “You..how do you even know about that?” The man smirked. “We know everything. You should be more careful, Lia. We don’t just gamble for money; we gamble for information too.” Lia’s hands shook as she said, “You’ve got your money. Just leave me alone.” The gambler smiled coldly. “For now.” Then they both turned and walked away, leavin

Nancy knew that my previous life was arbitrage, betting hundreds of millions of dollars on each market move. But I never bet on pure chance like the lottery (which is designed so you lose) or on the collective efforts of folks who went to college on athletic scholarships. If she had asked me I would have told her that "genius" gamblers like Getty always double down trying to recoup their losses. If they win they let it ride, so they never get even, eventually bad things become worse.

I repeated, the question echoing in the quiet night. He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. “Someone who fancies himself a knight in not-so-shining armor.” “A knight?” I scoffed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “More like a gambler with a lucky charm.” “Perhaps,” he conceded, a glint in his eyes that made my stomach do a nervous flip. “But a gambler who won you a fair shake, wouldn’t you say?”

“Double? You couldn’t pay the first dime, and now you’re spouting fairy tales about double?” The one with the cigarette snorted, smoke curling around his face. “Word’s gotten around, Carter,” the gun guy chimed in, a cruel grin splitting his face. “You’ve been gambling like you’ve got gold stashed somewhere. Lost every penny, didn’t you? That’s the ‘other stuff’ you’re talking about?” “No, no! That’s not true!” Carter cried, shaking his head frantically. “I wasn’t gambling! I... I was just trying to double my money so I could pay you back all at once! I thought—”

“The truth is, Pablo's not usually home because he likes to frequent the gamblers' den.” “It's at the other side of town. It's not so safe there for pretty boys like you,” she said with a wink. I faked laughter. “Do I look like I can't handle myself?” I asked her, and she blushed in response. The gamblers' den was in the red light district, some distance away from the village Pablo lived in. The den itself was a warehouse that was sectioned by galvanized roofing sheets. It was filled with men within his age group and stank of piss and feces. It was hot, humid, and noisy.