A man strode in, his gaze sweeping over me with leisurely contempt. After a long, deliberate pause, he scoffed.
"Tch. Ms. Harding must think highly of you, getting me to play against a nobody like you."
"It's him! The new God of Gamblers!"
"Kerry Gilbert's finished."
May didn't bother standing. She simply watched me, thoroughly entertained.
"Kerry, I'll say it one more time. If you want you and your mother to leave here safely—beat him."
The room exploded.
Some laughed at the impossibility of me defeating a gambling legend. Others hurled insults—calling me a spineless cuckold, tied up and humiliated while my wife cuckolded me.
Through the jeering and the filth, I turned to look at my mother. Tears streamed down her face.
"Mom." My voice was hoarse but steady. "Don't worry. We're walking out of here. Together."
The words had barely left my mouth when the man guarding her received a nod from Mark.
He reached out and tore her outer garment away.
"Well, well! The old lady's still got it!"
"Look at that skin—smooth as silk. Could pass for twenty, I'd say."
"I'm placing my bet right now. They say experienced women have the most... enthusiasm."
"Ha! Count me in—betting on the God of Gamblers. When he wins, that woman's ours."
The vile, degrading words slithered into my ears. My mother's face crumpled—I saw her trying to bite down, trying to end it herself—but the man yanked her back, pinning her arms.
Every drop of color drained from my face.
There was nothing left to say. Begging May was pointless.
"Alright, let the game begin."
"Kerry, don't say I didn't give you a fighting chance—we'll play stud poker, your specialty."
As if I had any other choice. The power was entirely in May's hands. I was bound to the card table, with only one hand freed to hold my cards.
"Gentlemen, once this piece of trash loses, feel free to have your fun with his dear mother. I'll even throw in cash for drinks."
"Hell yeah!"
The room erupted into cheers again, every man leering at my mother like starving wolves circling wounded prey.
Mark sat beside the card shark, watching me with naked provocation in his eyes.
"Kerry, here are the rules: every hand you lose, we strip one piece of clothing off your mother."
"Haha! And if you don't—"
"Can we start?"
I refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.