Chapter 5

Three days later, I walked into the VIP lounge of the luxury cruise ship, carrying a briefcase.

Ethan was lounging on the center leather sofa, surrounded by a thick cloud of cigar smoke.

When I dumped the five hundred thousand dollars in cash onto the green felt table, the surrounding crowd erupted into laughter.

"Mr. Cross, your ex-wife is hilarious. Does she not know we don't play for petty cash here?"

*Smack!*

A loud slap echoed through the room. The man who had spoken was sent stumbling, a bright red handprint burning on his cheek.

Ethan sat back down, casually rubbing his palm. "Remind me, what did you just call her?"

"She's... she's your wife, sir..." the man stammered, clutching his face in terror.

Scarlett Vance walked in, wearing a low-cut red silk dress and towering stiletto heels.

"Just take the cash," she purred, brushing her hand against Ethan's jaw. She blew a puff of cigarette smoke into his face. "Consider it a little gift from Vivian to buy Buster some treats. Right, Ethan?"

Ethan smiled, silently giving his consent.

I turned away from them, checking the leather cup and the dice.

"Everything looks fine. Let's begin."

First round. Liar's Dice.

Ethan called three 3s. I raised it to four.

He leaned forward, staring at me intensity. "When Leo passed away... did it hurt?"

The cup in my hand wobbled slightly.

"You should know," I said, looking up. "You have the same condition."

"Did it hurt as bad as my attacks?" he pressed on, his voice dropping. "Like someone reaching into your chest and crushing your heart into pieces?"

I closed my eyes, my palms slick with sweat.

"Five 3s," I called.

"Show them," Ethan said instantly, revealing his dice.

I lost the first round.

"You're distracted," Ethan leaned back on the sofa. "Focus on the next round."

The second round began. I played defensively.

But Ethan kept raising the stakes, pushing from three 4s all the way to six 4s.

"The morgue called me, asking when to cremate him," he said casually. "I told them to wait until I finish this game."

"Seven 4s," I said, keeping my voice dead steady.

He revealed his dice.

He didn't expect me to actually have them.

I won the second round.

"One to one," the dealer announced.

By the final round, Ethan's hand was shaking slightly as he shook the cup.

"I actually went to see him after he died," Ethan murmured softly. "He looked so much like you. Especially with his eyes closed."

The cold sea breeze swept through the open deck doors, making my spine shudder.

"Three 6s," I called.

"Four," he followed.

"If I hadn't closed that street that day, what would we be doing right now?" Ethan choked slightly. "Would you still be my wife? Would the three of us still be a happy family?"

"Five 6s," I raised my voice.

"Six."

Suddenly, the sound of rolling wheels echoed from the corridor outside.

Through the glass partition, I saw a small, brown wooden coffin being rolled by.

It was only four feet long, covered in a white sheet.

My hand slipped. The cup tipped over.

Reveal.

I had two 6s. He had three.

But I had called six.

"I win," Ethan said, lifting his cup with a complicated look. "Vivian, you still can't beat me."

"Make your choice," he stared at me. "Tear up the divorce papers, and we'll bury Leo together."

"Or get off my ship. You won't be allowed near his funeral."

Right then, the heavy double doors of the VIP room were kicked open by heavily armed SWAT officers.

"Nobody move! Hands in the air! We have a warrant for illegal high-stakes gambling!"

"What a joke!" Ethan slammed his hand on the table. "My ship is in international waters. And this is a private game with no money exchanged. You have no jurisdiction here!"

"International waters?" the captain took off his mask, smirking. "Mr. Cross, I suggest you take a look outside."

Ethan rushed to the deck. The glowing neon skyline of the harbor was right in front of him.

"Actually, I had five hundred and twenty thousand dollars," I whispered, walking up behind him. "The extra twenty thousand was more than enough to convince your captain to turn the ship back."

"And one more thing."

I patted his shoulder. "The five hundred thousand dollars Scarlett took from me? That counts as a monetary transaction. It's officially a crime."