The Gambler Novelas e Histórias

"Please help me buy chips of 200 million yuan, too." "B*tch. You’re everywhere," the male gambler whispered. Chu Xun looked at him. “It seems that the two know each other.” After a while, the waiter came back with chips of 400 million yuan. "Clatter!" The male gambler pushed all his chips of 200 million yuan to the banker, and said loudly, "Two hundred million on the banker." "Clatter!" There were sounds of chips colliding. There was another chip of 200 million yuan on the banker. It was from the female gambler.

“Come. Let’s play.” The crowd parts like silk as I approach. The dealer, a woman with diamond earrings and a dead stare, starts shuffling the cards. Morillo leans back in his chair, cigar smoke ghosting the air. “Same stakes?” I nod once. “Same stakes.” “Always the gambler.” “No,” I corrected him. “Always the man who wins.” He chuckles darkly. “Let’s see.” The first round begins. The cards glide across the felt like secrets, precise, clean, dangerous.

"I wished it is a lie, Senor. But it is the truth. You're going to give up all your wealth by gambling. After your foolish decision, your family will suffer, not until with my father. He managed to rise above from the total despair of our family." "For your information, senorita, your story has some holes. I do play and gamble, but I am a professional gambler. I don't gamble with emotion. I acquired some of my wealth by gambling because I'm good with it. And now, you're telling me I will lose everything? Preposterous!" "Don't gamble, okay. Avoid it at all cost." "Senorita Gabi, or whoever you are. Of all the absurdities, I heard yours win it all." He laughed mockingly and shook his head. "Fr

They deliberately avoided me and pulled Cassian into the stairwell. Sabine, however, sent me a livestream video directly. "Cassian, why not hold off on the abortion for now? Aren’t you curious whose child Kaelith is actually carrying?" "Yeah. Since she’s already pregnant, let’s make another bet—this time for $100 million. Five men, three babies." "That guarantees three winners and two losers. Just thinking about it is thrilling. It’s only a few extra days for another test. What’s the rush?" "Who knows? Maybe all three damn kids are mine, hahaha!"

So we found the bomb maker – a Bostonian named Ben, freelancer, worked for the highest bidder. I lifted my fist, examining the bruises on my knuckles. It hadn’t taken anywhere near my best to get his lips flapping. He told me that Vladimir had sworn him to secrecy, wanted no one to know, until the deed was done. Ben hadn’t been aware there was a child in the car. That didn’t stop me from killing him. I spat out the toothpaste and rinsed my mouth before stepping into the shower. My dick was hard enough to pound sand. I palmed it, thinking about stroking myself to completion. I didn’t like the thought of being needy for Irina. I wanted the upper hand.

“You were a terrible husband and an even worse father. You stole from us, hurt us, then disappeared when things got tough.” “I hit a rough patch!” Frank protested, his voice rising. “The cards weren’t falling my way. But I’m due for a big win—I can feel it. I just need a stake to get back in the game.” His desperation was palpable, obvious to anyone within ten feet. The gambling addiction had its claws deep in him, turning him into this hollow-eyed stranger who would rob his own family without remorse. “There’s no such thing as a ‘due’ win, Frank. That’s not how probability works.”

She said, "Bob, Jay doesn't have the money." Bob said coldly, "If he doesn't have the money, don't gamble. Justin, who gave you the courage and confidence to lose millions?" Justin finally retorted, "I didn’t want to lose. I wanted to win." "Ha!” Bob sneered. "You wanted to win? Where's the money now? How many gamblers enter the casino wanting to lose, but how many actually win? Hand it over." Justin clutched the property papers tightly and looked at Mildred.

Jeremy looks down on me with a soft smile, biting on his lower lip. Don’t look at me like that! We’re only supposed to be fake dating. Stop looking at me like I just hung the damn moon. I adjust in my seat, eyeing the glass of wine on the table. No, it’s too early to get drunk. “Yes, what Jeremy said.” “The gaming industry is brutal. I can’t imagine two rivals keeping it up while in love.” Mr. Hilton straightens, frowning at us. We’re about to be caught red-handed, of course Jeremy butts in to save the day as usual.

And that was exactly why I had agreed to date him. "Have you been waiting long?" "Just got here. Get in." William opened the car door for me. As I slid into the seat, I glanced up. On the apartment balcony, three faces twisted with jealousy stared down at us. I almost laughed out loud. William took me to a private shooting club. It was on Muller Island—members only, entry by family referral. He stood behind me, guiding my hands as he showed me how to hold the gun properly. My phone rang. It was Jennifer.

It is no longer news that I have developed a serious gambling addiction over the past months, spending nights at underground poker games and illegal betting establishments. Even though I have convinced myself I can win enough to prove I don't need the company or Sofia's position. Nothing is going as I have mapped out. My eyes stung with tears as I remembered that the men who loaned me the money are not legitimate lenders. They're criminals who use violence to collect debts. I stared at the board in a daze, trying to contemplate whether or not to leave or stay stuck in the chair. “Lucky you, my friend. It's about time you show these young ones how to really play a game.” One of the men on the