Jessie stared at Sophia Sullivan's face, her jaw clenched tight.
"Pretty face," she spat venomously. "But casinos don't run on looks. Don't come crying to men when you lose everything."
The men Amy brought couldn't tear their eyes away from Sophia.
Amy's expression darkened like storm clouds.
She'd already imagined tearing Sophia apart a thousand times in her mind.
Sophia didn't even glance her way.
Turning to Wesley, her voice remained steady. "When will the chairman arrive?"
"Patience. He'll be here soon."
Wesley suppressed a shiver. This woman was like a painting when still, but her gaze revealed razor-sharp edges.
Cold. Dangerous.
He cleared his throat. "Before the game begins, both parties must sign the death waiver."
Amy arched a lazy brow.
"Naturally. The stakes must be equal at the table."
Her icy gaze slid toward Sophia.
"Miss Crimson Serpent, once signed, your life belongs to the highest bidder when your chips run dry. That's the rule."
Sophia's lips curled into a frosty smile.
This rule was clearly targeting her.
Everyone knew Amy's black market empire had wealth as thick as castle walls.
While Sophia Sullivan, in their eyes, was just an arrogant vase who didn't know her place.
Mocking laughter erupted around them.
A balding man with yellowed teeth pushed forward, leering.
"Sweetheart, need money? I'll front you!"
The crowd roared with laughter.
"Take him up on it!"
A flash of cold light!
A thin red line appeared across the man's neck.
Thud!
A bloodstained playing card appeared between Sophia's fingers.
The man clutched his throat in horror, blood gushing between his fingers.
Gurgling sounds escaped him as he scrambled toward the medical room.
"Just removing a fly." Sophia smiled sweetly at Wesley. "The chairman won't mind, will he?"
Dead silence.
Half an inch deeper, and the card would have been fatal.
Amy narrowed her eyes, reassessing her opponent.
Wesley's back prickled with cold sweat. "Disruptors deserve punishment."
No one dared speak again.
Sophia tilted her head, her voice crystal clear. "This is my house. I set the stakes."
Jessie snorted. "You? What trash could you possibly offer that matches Amy's worth?"
Sophia ignored her.
Amy crossed her arms. "Let's make it easy—eight million."
She waited for the other woman to flinch.
Nervous players always lost.
But Sophia laughed.
"Eight million?" Her fingertip tapped the table. "Too small."
She met Amy's gaze head-on.
"How about eighty million?"
The air froze.
Eighty million in cash.
Even in this extravagant casino, it was an astronomical figure.
The jeering men fell silent.
Amy's pupils contracted sharply.
"Eighty million?"