Parker stepped into the casino like he owned the place—which, in a sense, he did. The lights reflected off the polished marble floors, the hum of slot machines and murmurs of high-stakes players filling the air. He'd been coming here for years, long before anyone outside his boardroom even knew his name. This was his domain, his routine. One glance, and he knew exactly where every regular played, every dealer moved, every high-roller lingered.
Dressed in his tailored suit—black, perfectly fitted, crisp white shirt just visible under the jacket—he moved with the calm confidence of a man used to control, to power. CEO of Vale Enterprises, multi-billion-dollar company, master of negotiations and boardroom battles, Parker wasn't just here for fun. But the thrill of the game? That had always been his favorite part.
His usual table was waiting, just where he liked it: a corner of the casino with a perfect view of the floor and no distractions. He let himself relax for a moment, savoring the familiar scent of expensive cologne mixed with cigar smoke and polished wood.
That was when he saw him. Hervy. Parker froze for a split second—not out of fear, but because Hervy's presence always demanded attention. Dressed sharply, confidence practically radiating off him, Hervy leaned casually on the edge of a blackjack table. The smirk was there—the one that Parker knew too well. The one that meant trouble.
No words were exchanged. Parker eased into his chair, the leather familiar and comforting beneath him. He kept his posture perfect, one hand brushing the edge of the table as his gaze never left Hervy.
Hervy's smirk widened. He raised a hand, giving a slow, casual wave, and then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leaned slightly forward and let his fingers trace a subtle, almost invisible sign only Parker would understand. The message was clear: I'm ready for this. Are you?
A chuckle escaped Hervy's lips as he snapped his fingers. A server approached, and Hervy tossed a glass of red wine with just enough aim for Parker to see it arc through the air—but not enough to actually hit him. Parker didn't flinch. His control was absolute, his expression carefully neutral. He didn't need to answer Hervy's provocation with words; restraint was more powerful than any reaction.
But then Parker's eyes shifted slightly, catching movement beside Hervy. A woman stood there, poised and stunning, the kind of presence that turned heads without trying. Hervy's companion—no, his girlfriend—was impossible to miss. Her elegance was natural; she didn't need flashy clothes or makeup to command attention. The kind of beauty that made people pause mid-step, that drew gazes like magnets.
Parker's focus sharpened. He studied her casually at first, observing how she carried herself, how she laughed lightly at Hervy's antics, how her eyes sparkled with intelligence and mischief. There was an energy about her, a kind of unspoken strength, and Parker felt an almost instinctive awareness: she was more than just an accessory to Hervy's ego.
Hervy noticed Parker looking, and the smirk on his face deepened. It was as if he knew exactly what Parker was thinking, and he thrived on the tension it created. He leaned back, clearly enjoying the silent challenge, the unspoken game unfolding before the crowd.
Meanwhile, Parker's mind didn't waver. He adjusted his jacket, rose slowly from his chair, and headed toward Hervy's table. The crowd noticed instantly. A few whispers followed him across the room; everyone knew these two weren't just ordinary gamblers. This was business spilling into the casino—a rivalry bigger than cards and chips.
Hervy leaned back in his seat, spreading his arms wide like he owned the entire table. His grin sharpened as Parker stopped in front of him.
"Well, look who finally grew the courage to step away from his corner," Hervy said loud enough for the nearby players to hear. A few chuckles rolled through the crowd. "Tell me, Parker, you really think tonight's the night you can beat me? You've watched me clear this table a hundred times."
Parker didn't flinch. His eyes stayed locked on Hervy, his voice calm, steady. "I'm not here for your show, Hervy. I'm here to play. Just like always."
Hervy laughed, a deep, mocking sound, before signaling for the dealer to prepare. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But guts don't win games—skill does. And you know how this ends. I win. You walk away with nothing but wasted time."
The woman beside him shifted, glancing curiously at Parker, but Hervy's hand landed possessively on her arm, almost as if reminding both of them she was his. He turned back to Parker, eyes gleaming with arrogance.
"Tell you what," Hervy continued, his tone dripping with superiority. "Let's make this interesting. If by some miracle you beat me tonight, she's yours." He tilted his head toward his girlfriend, who froze at the words, eyes flickering between them in disbelief. "But when—not if—I win, you drop that shiny little project your company's been chasing. Walk away from it. Hand it over to me."
The entire table went silent. The bet wasn't just about pride anymore. It was business. Millions, maybe billions, were suddenly on the line.
Parker's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. He didn't let Hervy's arrogance shake him. Inside, he knew Hervy was baiting him, playing dirty like always. But the man's confidence, his disrespect, was fuel.
"You really think I'd hand you my project so easily?" Parker asked, voice low, deliberate.
Hervy smirked wider, leaning forward. "You'll have no choice once you lose."
The dealer hesitated, sensing the weight of what was unfolding, but Parker gave a single nod. His decision was made. One hand. One game. His project—or Hervy's woman.
The dealer shuffled the cards slowly, his hands steady despite the pressure. Every eye in the room was locked on the table now. The air felt heavy, thick with anticipation.
Parker sat across from Hervy, his expression unreadable. He leaned back in his chair, calm, almost casual, while Hervy leaned forward, eager, grinning like the outcome was already set in stone.
The first cards slid across the table. Parker picked his up, his face giving nothing away. Hervy glanced at his own hand, then smirked and tapped the table with his knuckles.
"You're finished before we've even started," Hervy said. "I can see it in your eyes."
Parker didn't answer. He placed his chips forward, controlled, measured. Hervy matched him instantly, careless, confident. The crowd murmured, tension rising with each move.
Second cards were dealt. Parker's hand was strong. He didn't celebrate, didn't react—he simply watched Hervy over the edge of his cards. Hervy chuckled, already reaching for more chips, his arrogance on full display.
Round after round, the bets grew higher. Hervy laughed, taunted, tried to break Parker's composure. Parker stayed silent, focused, unshaken. His calm was infuriating for Hervy, who thrived on getting under people's skin.
Finally, it came down to the last reveal. The dealer placed the final card down, the table going so quiet you could hear the roulette wheels spinning on the other side of the casino.
Hervy's grin faltered for the first time as he laid his hand down. Strong—but not enough. Parker turned his cards over slowly, deliberately, and the crowd erupted.
"Winner—Parker Vale," the dealer announced firmly.
The table shook with the sound of chips being pulled in Parker's direction. Hervy's jaw clenched, his face darkening as reality sank in. He had lost.
Across from him, Parker didn't smile. He didn't gloat. He simply sat back, his eyes locked on Hervy with steady confidence. Winning wasn't luck—it was calculated, inevitable.
Then the weight of the bet crashed over the table. Hervy's girlfriend—Emily—froze where she stood. Her eyes widened as the words replayed in her head: If I lose, she's yours. She turned sharply to Hervy, disbelief written across her face.
"You… you bet me?" Emily's voice cracked. She pushed back slightly from his chair, shaking her head. "Are you insane? You don't just—"
"Shut up, Emily," Hervy snapped, his pride bleeding into anger. He didn't want her outburst making him look weaker in front of Parker and the crowd.
But Emily couldn't contain herself. "I'm not some prize you just throw on the table! What the hell were you thinking?" Her voice rose, drawing even more attention from the crowd. Gasps and whispers spread—everyone had heard it now.
Hervy stood abruptly, slamming his fist against the table. "This isn't over, Vale!" His eyes burned with fury as he glared at Parker. "You think one lucky hand changes anything? You'll regret this."
Before Parker could respond, movement rippled through the casino. His men—two massive bodyguards in dark suits—appeared at his side, as if they had been waiting for the signal.
Emily's panic grew. "Wait, no, no—what are you doing?" she cried as one of the bodyguards moved toward her. She struggled, pulling against their grip as they wrapped their arms around her, lifting her from the spot. "Hervy! Do something! Don't let them take me!"
The crowd scattered slightly, some stepping back, others watching with morbid fascination. The struggle was real—Emily kicking, twisting, her voice breaking with every scream—but the bodyguards were trained, efficient, and far too strong.
Hervy reached forward instinctively, but Parker's second man stepped between them, blocking him with a hard shove to the chest. Hervy stumbled back, fury boiling in his eyes but helpless in the moment.
"This isn't how it ends!" Hervy shouted, his voice shaking with rage. "You hear me, Parker? You're not walking away with her!"
But Parker didn't react. He stood, buttoning his jacket calmly as Emily's cries echoed in the background. His expression remained stone-cold, eyes forward, as his men escorted Emily out of the casino despite her desperate fight.
Emily's last scream carried through the casino floor: "I'm not his! I don't belong to him!"
But Parker didn't look back.
The first hand had been played. And it had changed everything.