Jenson's POV

I used to be the King of Gambling. But I had already retired from the underground scene and wanted nothing more to do with the game.

But life had other plans.

My mother was dragged into a setup. My old rival took her hostage just to force me back into the game and face him one more time.

But no matter what hand I played, it was like he could read my mind.

At first, I thought it was just a fluke—one bad game. But I was wrong. I lost everything until I was completely bankrupt.

The fans who once worshiped me hurled rocks and even urine at me, screaming in my face and mocking me online.

“King of Gambling? Please. He was just lucky, that’s all.”

“Can’t believe I used to look up to this loser. Makes me sick.”

Then came the worst betrayal.

My wife shattered my mother's leg before tossing her into the sea. And that very night, my wife filed for divorce.

When I confronted her, demanded to know why she did that to my mother, she threw herself into my enemy’s arms, smiling seductively as she whispered, “I’m just helping Martin clear away his obstacles.”

Martin Mckinney wrapped his arm around her and forced me to watch them putting on a live sex show right in front of me like I was nothing.

And that wasn’t the end.

He even tossed me into a den of wolves until I was torn apart.

That was the miserable end of my last life. It all started with a single game, and I lost everything—my pride, my reputation, my family, and eventually, my life.

But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the same day of the fateful game against Martin.

——

The pain of being mauled by wolves and the humiliation of watching my wife in another man’s bed made me die with my eyes wide open.

'Cecilia. Martin. I won't forgive you even in hell.'

I thought I was dead for good. But someone up there must have pitied me because I got a second chance.

I looked down at the cards in my hand and the crowd buzzing around me.

Before me, Cecilia Turner was sitting on Martin’s lap, the two of them flirting shamelessly in front of everyone, doing things no one wanted to see.

Just as my hand almost reached for the chips to raise the bet, I snapped out of it. I pulled back quickly, my breath ragged, heart pounding.

My eyes then scanned the room and saw familiar faces, the same people who would betray or mock me. In an instant, I realized I had come back to that day Martin set me up at the poker table.

If I pushed those chips forward and matched his bet, I’d be stepping right back into the same trap.

“Jenson, you in or not?” someone called out.

“He’s probably too scared to go in. Well, can’t blame him. He’s already lost a few rounds.”

“Pfft. This is the so-called King of Gambling? He’s a joke next to Martin.”

“He probably cheated in the past. That’s how he won before!”

Their jeers pierced my ears like needles, making me clench my fists without me realizing it.

Cecilia slowly spread her legs, and Martin’s hand wandered somewhere it shouldn’t have. Everyone in the room knew she was my wife. And yet, there she was, making a mockery of me right before my eyes.

“Looks like Jenson’s time is over. Even his own woman is in his rival’s bed.”

Martin kissed her right there and turned to the crowd. “Everyone, once I win this round, drinks are on me!”

“Long live Martin!” the crowd roared, drunk on the drama.

Martin’s eyes locked on mine, full of smug satisfaction and open challenge. “What’s wrong, Jenson? Afraid to lose again? Sorry to tell you, but you have no way to turn back.”

Then he snapped his fingers arrogantly. At that cue, someone dragged my mother forward.

“If you win, take your mother home. But if you lose… I’m cutting off one of her hands. Don’t worry, though. There’s always the second half of the game tomorrow,” he continued.

Martin loved breaking people down. He didn’t just want to beat me. He wanted to ruin me slowly and painfully, to toy with my fear, my nerves, my heart.

Jenson's POV

I’d seen this trick before. I lived through it in my past life.

“Jenson! Please, help me! I don’t want to lose my hand!” My mother sobbed uncontrollably as they dragged her forward.

I stared at her, then at Cecilia. “Why, Cecilia? Why would you do this?”

I wanted to know what she had done to me for Martin to know every card in my hand.

I needed to find it out.

She shrugged, calm as ever, and replied, “What could I possibly do? You simply weren’t good enough. The man I want has to be a winner, and you’re not anymore. I had to think about my future, you know.”

As soon as she said that, Martin wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear, “Babe, tonight, I’ll make you feel like you’re in heaven.”

Then he turned to me with a smirk. “Alright, let’s keep going. Let’s see if you’ve got the guts to follow through.”

I looked at the cards in my hand, and there was no doubt; he knew what I was holding.

So I leaned back in my chair instead of calling, then scanned the room.

I suspected the obstruction behind me. Maybe it had a hidden camera. And Martin’s glasses were probably linked to it somehow.

If Cecilia hadn’t tampered with me directly, then that was the only explanation that made sense.

“I have one condition,” I said slowly. “Clear out everything behind me. I need to make sure you’re not spying on my hand through some hidden camera.”

As I said that, the room went still.

Even Martin’s smug expression faltered. Then the others around us nodded, murmuring in agreement.

But he only scoffed, “Someone’s been watching too many movies.”

“Believe what you want,” I said coolly. “But I’m not playing unless it’s cleared.”

“Fine,” he said after a beat, turning to the staff. “Move everything behind him.”

The staff did as he asked, clearing out the clutter behind my seat.

After that, he asked, “All set, Jenson. Can we start now?”

Only then did I nod and even requested, “Change the game. We’re playing Texas Hold’em.”

Martin agreed without hesitation. No matter what I chose, he acted like he already owned the outcome.

And so, the dealer started dealing.

I got a 7 and a Jack, and the latter was my hidden card. Martin’s visible card was a 3, while his hidden card remained unknown.

I had the higher hand, so I got to place the first bet.

“One million,” I said, pushing my chips forward.

Martin smiled and nudged Cecilia. “Babe, do me a favor. Push the chips in.”

She giggled and sat up, casually shoving his bet forward.

The dealer dealt the next round.

I got an 8, and Martin’s visible card was another 3.

“Looks like Martin’s gonna win this one again,” someone in the crowd muttered.

“Three million,” Cecilia said sweetly, raising the bet for the man in her lap.

She thought I would back down.

But I firmly said, “Call,” and pushed in my chips.

This time, there were no cameras behind me. If he still won, it would mean he was simply better. But I didn’t buy it.

“Still playing tough, huh? You think you’re the King of Gambling again?”

“Keep going like this and you’ll lose everything you’ve got left.”

Despite the jeers, I stayed calm and focused only on the game.

The next round, I got a 9 and Martin’s was Ace.

“Still the biggest hand on the table. Jenson’s getting crushed,” someone commented.

“Five million!” he announced, grinning.

“You still daring enough to call?” he taunted, gently nudging Cecilia off his lap like she was a prop he no longer needed.

I looked up and locked eyes with him, slowly twisting the ring on my finger.

“Call,” I said coldly.

This wasn’t just a card game. It was a battle of minds.

“He’s really going all the way?”

“Guy doesn’t know when to quit.”

“Like he has a choice. If he folds, his mother loses a hand.”

Martin lit a cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke.

“Final round,” he said to the dealer.

The last cards were drawn, and I got a 10, while Martin’s was another 3.

At that, the tension in the room exploded, and even the air seemed to hold its breath.

Jenson's POV

At that time, all eyes were locked on us, wide and unblinking. Everyone was waiting for us to reveal our final cards.

“You’ve got the highest card,” the dealer said to me. “You show first.”

Martin lounged back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world, pulling Cecilia back onto his lap again.

“Babe,” he said lazily, “ever tried smoking?”

“Yeah,” she giggled.

He handed her a cigarette, and the two of them lit up. They whispered something to each other, which made her cheeks flush red, but I had no idea what it was.

Not wanting to see another second of that disgusting display, I shoved all my chips forward and said, “Call it or fold.”

“Call,” Cecilia said with a smirk. “Oh, and while we’re at it, sign this too.”

She slapped a divorce agreement down in front of me.

“Set me free, Jenson. A man like you doesn’t deserve someone like me.”

“Cecilia, you’re rotten to the core!” my mother’s voice rang out, sharp and furious. “My son treated you like a queen from the moment you stepped into our home. He gave you everything. Loved you. Protected you. And this is how you repay him? By crawling into bed with another man and destroying his life? You’re shameless!”

But before I could react, Cecilia stormed forward and slapped my mother across the face hard. Then came a punch to her side.

Seeing that, I bolted up, rage surging through me, but Martin’s men blocked my path.

“Cecilia! That’s enough!” I shouted. “Let my mother go! You want a divorce? Fine, I’ll give it to you!”

I turned back to the table, and Martin tossed a pen at my face.

I caught it and, without saying a word, signed the damn paper.

“You really think you’ve already won?” I said coldly. “Don’t come crawling back when it’s too late, Cecilia.”

Because I was holding a trump card that would crush his lousy set of threes.

“Oh, please. The only one crawling will be you,” she snapped.

Fine. If that was how they wanted to play it, I'd make sure she'd never get the chance to come back.

“Mom, just hang in there. I’m going to get you out of this,” I said, taking my seat again and meeting Martin’s eyes with pure defiance.

“Show your hand first,” he said.

To speed things up, I flipped over my final card.

“Jack. Straight flush. Martin, you're finished.”

For a moment, the room went completely silent.

Then, laughter exploded.

“HAHAHAHA! You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“That’s a King, not a Jack! The guy’s lost his damn mind!”

“Dude must’ve snapped from losing too much.”

"Maybe he did lose!" Cecilia sneered as she walked up to my mother, twirling a dagger in front of her face with arrogant flair. “Well, old hag, what now? Your precious son, Jenson, just lost! According to the rules of the bet, that means we cut off your hand!”

“Aaaah! No! Please don’t cut off my hand! Son, help me! Please!” my mother begged, extremely scared and panicking.

I blinked, and looked down at my cards again.

This wasn’t right.

It was supposed to be a Jack. Why did it suddenly become a King?

Cold sweat dripped down my back. My heart pounded in disbelief.

Was this really happening?

Had I come back from the dead only to live out the same nightmare all over again?

My so-called title of “King of Gambling” was already in pieces. And the looks from the crowd, once filled with admiration, were now full of pity and disgust.

“Jenson, you've lost. You seriously thought you could have a straight flush with a K?? What a joke.”

Then my mother’s scream shattered through the chaos. “AHHHHH!”

I spun around just in time to see her hand severed.

Cecilia then picked up the severed hand like it was trash and tossed it at my feet.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said mockingly. “Here, take it. It’s all yours.”

She even had the nerve to pretend to look heartbroken.

My hands trembled as I clenched my fists. Rage boiled inside me, shaking me to the core.

But again, they blocked me, keeping me from reaching my mother.

“Jenson,” Martin said, calm as ever, “if you want to save her, then show up tomorrow on time. Next time, it won’t just be a hand. It’ll be a corpse.”