The Bellagio's poker room was a glittering cage of chandeliers and green felt. Marcus stood at the door, his fake ID in hand. Claire walked beside him, her hair pulled back, wearing a black dress—"I'm your manager," she'd said. "Chen's guys won't suspect."
The tournament was already underway. Players in suits and sunglasses sat at tables, their faces serious. Marcus scanned the room—Chen was at the final table, his fingers tapping the table as he talked to a dealer.
"Stay close," Claire whispered, squeezing his arm. "Miller's men are here—watching."
Marcus nodded, walking to the registration desk. He handed over the $10,000 buy-in, then took his chips—fake ones, with tracking devices. He walked to the final table, sitting across from Chen.
Chen looked up, his eyes sharp. "Marcus Chen. Raymond's nephew. I've heard a lot about you."
Marcus grinned, shuffling his chips. "I've heard a lot about you too. The guy who hides behind other people's crimes."
Chen's finger tapped the table—bluffing. "We'll see who's hiding when this game ends."
The dealer dealt the cards. Marcus got a pair of aces. Chen bet $500, his finger still tapping. Marcus called.
The flop came: ace of hearts, 10 of diamonds, 3 of clubs. Three of a kind. Chen bet $1,000, tapping faster. Marcus called.
The turn was a 5 of spades. Chen bet $5,000. Marcus's heart raced. He looked at Claire—she was standing by the bar, her watch camera pointed at the table. She nodded.
"All in," Marcus said, pushing his chips forward.
Chen's face darkened. He hesitated, then folded. "Smart kid," he said, his voice cold.
The game continued. Marcus won hand after hand, using Raymond's tricks and Claire's tells. By the final round, he and Chen were the only ones left.
The dealer dealt the cards. Marcus got a king and queen of hearts. Chen bet $10,000, his finger tapping.
Marcus looked at Claire. She mouthed, "Call."
He called.
The flop came: jack of hearts, 9 of diamonds, 2 of clubs. Straight draw. Chen bet $20,000.
Marcus's hands shook. He looked at the chips—fake ones, with tracking devices. He pushed them forward. "All in."
Chen grinned, flipping his cards—ace and queen of spades. "I win."
Marcus's heart sank. Then Claire yelled, "FBI! Freeze!"
Miller and his men ran in, their guns drawn. Chen reached for a gun in his jacket, but an agent tackled him.
"You think you won?" Chen yelled, struggling against the cuffs. "My men have Sophia's dad! They'll kill him if I don't call!"
Marcus pulled out his phone, dialing Sophia. "Get to the chip factory. Now. Chen's men have your dad."
He ran out of the poker room, Claire following. They jumped into the Impala, and Marcus hit the gas.
The chip factory was a small building on the edge of town. Sophia was waiting, her switchblade in hand. "They're inside," she said. "Two guards."
Marcus and Claire snuck in. The factory was dark, the air smelling like plastic. Sophia's dad was tied to a chair, a guard standing over him.
Marcus snuck up behind the guard, hitting him with a pipe. The guard fell, and Claire untied Sophia's dad.
"Run!" Marcus yelled.
They sprinted out, jumping into the Impala. As they drove away, Marcus looked in the rearview mirror—Chen's men were chasing them, but Miller's FBI cars cut them off.
Back at the Bellagio, Chen was being led away. He looked at Marcus, his eyes filled with hate. "This isn't over," he said. "My partner will find you. In New York."
Marcus's blood ran cold. Partner. Chen had another one.
Miller walked over, clapping him on the shoulder. "Good work. The chips are seized. Sophia's dad is safe."
Claire smiled, hugging Marcus. "We did it."
But as they stood there, Marcus's phone buzzed. An anonymous email. The subject line: "New York." The body: "I'm waiting. Your old friend."
He showed it to Claire. Her face paled. "Chen's partner. He's coming for you."
Marcus nodded. He thought of New York, of Claire's law classes. He thought of the email, of the partner.
The game wasn't over.
But for now, they were safe.
That night, they drove back to Los Angeles. Marcus looked at Claire, her head resting on his shoulder. He thought of the future—New York, law school, poker games left behind.
But he knew—Chen's partner was waiting. And someday, he'd have to finish the game.
For now, though, he was content to drive, the night air cool, Claire beside him.
The end of the first game.
The start of something new.