The door opened with a soft hiss, and a woman in a red and black uniform walked in—a senior floor manager by the look of her badge and composure. She carried a polished silver plate, but instead of food, a single black card rested on it, its surface faintly glinting under the chandelier.
"Mr. Xavier," she said respectfully, lowering her head slightly. "Your total winnings have been credited. Seven hundred and thirty billion."
Xavier glanced at the plate, his eyes narrowing slightly. He'd already received the system notification a few minutes ago—the confirmation flickering across his neural interface while he was cutting into his steak. The casino's gesture was ceremonial at best. The card wasn't even linked to a bank; Angel had gotten it made for him through her hacker network—an untraceable bio-keyed chip that only recognized Xavier's DNA pattern.
Still, he played along, setting down his knife. "Seven hundred and thirty?" he asked lazily. "Wasn't it eight hundred?"
