“Then I’ll go with low,” Arnold declared, his voice calm but defiant.
It was clear he intended to oppose Felicia at every turn. If she picked high, he’d pick low.
Arnold’s friends were among the crowd of young socialites. They laughed, tossing their chips onto the table. They weren’t there for the winnings. To them, this was entertainment, a way to support their friend while watching Felicia lose her composure. They fully expected to see her flustered and embarrassed by the end of the round.
The dealer rang the bell, signaling the end of bets. The cover lifted to reveal the roll-4-5-5. High!
Felicia won.
A pile of chips quickly stacked up in front of her. She smirked at Arnold, her eyes brimming with challenge. “Do you wanna go another round?”
“Bring it on!” Arnold snorted. His pride stung. “That was just the first round. Beginner’s luck.”
A new round began. Felicia placed her bet on high again, doubling down without hesitation.
Still fuming, Lucas didn’t hesitate. “Low.”
Despite raising their eyebrows at Felicia’s winning streak, his friends stuck by him and chose low.
The roll came up, and the cover lifted. Unbelievably, it was the exact same result as before-4-5-5. High!
Felicia won again.
She leaned back in her chair, her expression serene but clearly pleased. Meanwhile, Arnold’s jaw tightened, his frustration mounting.
“Two rounds don’t mean anything,” he snapped. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Of course not,” Felicia replied sweetly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Let’s keep going. Maybe this time, you’ll actually win.”
For the third round, Felicia picked low. Her bet was modest this time, giving the impression she wasn’t entirely confident.
Arnold chose high, of course. His friends, caught between doubt and stubbornness, followed suit.
Just before the betting closed, Felicia casually pushed another stack of chips into her pile.
The cover lifted-1, 2, 2. Small!
A chorus of groans erupted around the table as Felicia’s chips grew even further.
“Three in a row! Can you believe this?” one of the onlookers muttered.
“It’s just luck,” another grumbled, crossing his arms. “I’m not giving up. Let’s go again!”
The tension at the table escalated. The young socialites were growing more determined with each loss, refusing to back down. Arnold, with his pride on the line, was equally relentless.
Round after round, the game continued.
By the 12th, Felicia’s uncanny streak of wins remained unbroken. She even let Arnold bet first a few times, just to mix things up. But no matter what he chose, she followed her instincts and kept winning
Arnold’s initial arrogance had faded into disbelief, then frustration. Finally, he settled into stunned silence. By now, his face was a mixture of shock and resignation.
“This… can’t be real!” one of his friends exclaimed. “There’s no way she’s this lucky!”
The dealer, unbothered by the accusations, calmly explained, “Our tables at Opulent Elegance are strictly monitored. Cheating is impossible.”
Satisfied, Felicia decided it was time to call it a night. She gathered her winnings, a staggering 40 thousand in chips, most of which had come from Arnold’s substantial losses. Well, what could she say? The guy had deep pockets.
Felicia figured she’d been pretty
reasonable-she could’ve bled him dry, but she decided to call it quits while she was ahead. She gathered her winnings and got ready to leave, but Arnold wasn’t having it
“No way,” he said firmly, his tone making it clear he wasn’t about to let her walk out. “We’re not done until I say we’re done.” Felicia sighed and realized he wasn’t going to let this go. Fine. If he wanted to lose more money, who was she to stop him?
She dropped her bag back on the table and slid into her seat with a smirk. “Alright, if you insist on gambling, then I’ll humor you.”