Bet On Me, My obsessed Alpha

"Who else is willing to sit at this table with me?" Taylor asked, his voice echoing through the room as he fanned out the deck. Beside him, Harriet watched in silence. Taylor always insisted she sit behind his opponent; he called her his 'bad luck charm,' claiming that anyone she touched or stood near would see their fortunes crumble. Yet, despite his superstitions, he refused to grant her a divorce.

Harriet felt she had no other choice but to obey. With no bridge left to her family and no assets to her name, she sat where she was told. Even though Taylor was known as a master of the deal, the underground casino suddenly fell into an eerie silence. The clinking of glasses stopped, the waitresses froze, and the thick clouds of cigar smoke drifted unheeded. Every eye in the room turned toward the entrance.

Three men walked in, carrying an aura of quiet violence. Harriet leaned toward her husband. "Did you do something again?" she whispered.

Taylor didn’t answer.

"I hear there's a man here who no one can beat," one of the newcomers said. He wore a black hat and a mask that obscured his face.

"Do you know who that is?" a worker whispered to a patron nearby.

"He is the master of the high stakes. Rumor says whatever he touches turns to gold," the customer replied.

"I’d like to play him," the worker muttered.

The customer shook his head. "I didn't finish. If you lose, he takes a heart from you. That's how he built his empire. Some say he’s mafia; others say he isn't human."

Harriet, overhearing the exchange, felt a knot of dread tighten in her chest. "Don't do anything stupid, Taylor," she urged.

"You have no right to tell me what to do," Taylor snapped, his eyes fixed on the masked man. "As long as you’re sitting exactly where I told you, our luck might finally turn. Maybe everything you ruined will come back into place."

Taylor was a man who lived to blame others for his own failings. Harriet knew the pattern well, but she remained silent, searching for any exit from his manipulation.

"I need a challenger," the masked man said, his voice low. "Are you ready?"

Taylor pulled a King from the deck and held it up. "Sure. What’s in it for me?"

The stranger moved toward the table, stopping in front of Harriet. He stared at her for a long minute. Harriet felt a chill run down her spine—a sensation of being truly seen that she hadn't felt in years. She gestured for him to take the seat.

"Who is she?" the man asked as his associates cleared the chair for him.

"She is just a tool in my life," Taylor said dismissively.

Harriet looked at Taylor, her heart aching despite the years of calloused emotions.

"So, what is the answer to my question?" the stranger asked again.

"I will let you set the stakes," Taylor replied. "I am Taylor Rue. And you are?" He extended a hand.

The man looked at Taylor’s hand as if it were a piece of trash. "I can't remember a time where names mattered in a shuffle," he said, brushing Taylor’s hand aside. Taylor bristled at the insult but retracted his hand, beginning to deal the round.

"I want your tool to flip the cards. I don't trust you," the stranger commanded.

"Your wish is my command," Taylor said, sensing a massive opportunity. He handed the deck to Harriet. "I don't know you, so let's deal in currency. I am betting everything in this casino. It’s the only thing I have left."

It was the truth. Since their marriage, Taylor’s life had spiraled. After Harriet’s father withdrew his investments, Taylor had forced Harriet to sell her successful fashion house to fund his failing food company. Six months later, that money was gone too.

"I heard that if I lose, you also give a gift. What would that be?" Taylor asked.

Harriet finished the shuffle and began to lay out the cards.

"You will know when we finish," the stranger said. "If you win, I give you fifty gold bars, a deed to land, and I will build you a new casino."

The game began. Taylor signaled Harriet with his eyes to move back to his side. She complied, and as she sat, Taylor ground his heel onto her foot. It was his ritual—stepping on his 'bad luck' to force a win.

The first round ended with Taylor showing a full house of Kings. A crowd gathered, breathless. The second round went to the mysterious stranger. Taylor pressed his heel harder into Harriet’s foot, making her face contort in silent agony. The stranger noted her pain, then looked back at Taylor.

"This is the last hand," the man said, dropping a heavy handgun onto the table.

The crowd surged backward. Taylor, not to be outdone, slammed a dagger onto the felt. The tension in the room was a physical weight. As the cards were played, tears began to stream down Harriet’s face from the physical pain of Taylor’s foot and the emotional weight of her life.

Stay until you hate him enough to leave, she told herself. Stay until you have the strength to pay him back.

The mysterious man revealed his final cards—a Royal Flush. The room gasped.

"The game is over," the announcer called out, his voice shaking. "The winner is the guest, defeating the King of Cards."

Taylor didn't look angry; he looked expectant. "You still owe me a gift for playing. Name your price for the loss. What do you want?"

"I need a treasure from you," the stranger said, looking around the room. Taylor’s heart hammered against his ribs. The man’s eyes settled on Harriet. "Her. I want her. You will sign her rights over to me."

Taylor exhaled a massive sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I thought you were going to ask for my casino."

"But that’s his wife!" someone in the crowd whispered. "How could he? No one treats a wife like a slave."

"Oh, I see," the stranger said. "She isn't just a tool; she’s your wife. My mistake."

"No, don't feel bad," Taylor waved it off. "You can have her. She’s useless to me. Nothing but a curse."

Harriet stood up, her eyes burning with tears and rage. "I am not a mute! I am not an object! You cannot give me away and you do not own me. I refuse to be a prize!"

She turned to walk away, but the stranger's men blocked her path.

"Taylor, are you serious?" she cried out.

"Well," the stranger said, "since she’s refusing, I suppose I’ll take the casino instead. I was going to give you two hundred bars of gold and land in my city for her." He pulled down his mask.

"It’s him!" a voice cried. "The Demon of Astaria!"

"The City of Gold? Where everyone gets rich?"

Taylor’s greed hit a boiling point. He lunged forward, grabbing Harriet’s arm so hard his fingers bruised her skin. He dragged her back to the table. "She’s yours! Where do I sign? When do I get the gold?"

"Leave me alone, Taylor! You’re hurting me!" Harriet screamed, but Taylor was deaf to her.

"Bring the boxes," the stranger commanded. They opened a chest, and the room was filled with the glitter of pure gold. Taylor didn't even use a magnifying glass. He pressed a bar to his chest.

"I never knew my greatest burden would bring such a fortune," Taylor sneered at Harriet. "Consider this your payment for ruining my life."

"You will regret this, Taylor. I swear it," Harriet sobbed as he signed the papers.

"Now that it's done," the stranger said, his hand moving to his gun, "if another drop of blood falls from this woman’s body because of you, I will make this casino bleed."