CHAPTER 1
Grand Prize
It was just like Richard to call all-in and make the whole world hold its breath while he took his damn time flipping his cards. Fucking privileged prick.
William leaned back in his chair, glancing at his hand for the third time to make sure he had a straight. He was going to win, he was certain of it, but he knew better than to celebrate too soon. He’d made a fool of himself on live television before. Never again.
Richard held his gaze, a sly half-smile flashing on his tan face as he reached for his own cards. The asshole was well known in the poker sphere for being insufferable, but to William, he was far worse than that. He represented everything wrong with the ultra-wealthy.
Richard needed neither the money nor the prestige. He only took part in these competitions for fun, and he did everything in his power to be a pain in the ass. Had it been anyone else, they’d have been banned long ago, but Richard was old money. He was allowed to do whatever the fuck he wanted. It made William’s blood boil.
Richard flipped his cards.
It took all of William’s willpower not to scream.
“William Mitchell is the grand winner of the 2025 Freedom in Spades Poker tournament!” a voice boomed, making the crowd erupt into cheers.
William’s skin tingled with excitement and disbelief as he stared at Richard’s pair of threes. He stood on wobbly legs, a delirious laugh nearly escaping his lips as he offered Richard his hand.
It had taken ten years of online poker and eleven hours spent at this table, but he’d done it. He was now living proof that being born into a wealthy and powerful family wasn’t all it took to be a winner.
William focused on his breathing as he let go of Richard’s hand and took in the surreal scene. Row upon row of people surrounded him, cheering and clapping. Flashes of light blinded him, reminding him that cameras were still recording—broadcasting live all over the world.
His heart pounded with a mixture of adrenaline, anxiety, and fatigue. He became all too aware of his limbs, not knowing what to do with himself as he felt thousands of eyes trained on him.
A FIS Poker employee appeared in his field of view and gave him a bright smile, motioning for him to follow her. Relief washed over him as he headed in her direction.
“So, we’ll be taking a few photos,” she said as they moved away from the crowd, offering him a warm washcloth to wipe his face and neck. It felt heavenly. “There’ll be a few brief interviews, and then you’ll get to relax. Oh—” She grinned. “And you’ll be awarded your prize, of course.”
William exhaled a calming breath as she handed him a bottle of water. He was finally about to find out what it was. His dozens of web searches had turned up nothing—only the second-place prize had been advertised.
Not that it really mattered what it was. William was probably going to sell it. With the current state of his bank account, he had no use for a luxury car, or yacht, or whatever.
William miraculously remained upright during the photoshoot and interviews. At this point, he suspected his body was fueled by nothing but the certainty that all his troubles would soon melt away.
He couldn’t wait to put on his sweats, collapse on his hotel bed, and make plans for what he’d do with all that money once he knew the exact amount. His list was long, but first things first, he’d pay off his debts to his mom.
William gratefully followed another FIS Poker employee toward the winners’ lodge, where an imposing man with black hair and an impeccable suit was waiting for him. He greeted him with a firm handshake. “Congratulations,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. William recognized him then—he was the CEO of FIS Poker. “You displayed remarkable skill out there.”
“Thanks, I—”
“Martin,” Richard drawled behind him, making William grit his teeth.
He’d been hoping Richard would keep exchanging shallow pleasantries with the investors for a while longer, but life wasn’t ever so kind. William should have known he’d reappear right on cue to ruin the mood.
Richard sauntered across the corridor and shook the man’s hand. “Always a pleasure.”
Martin nodded impassively. “I wished to come here and thank you personally for the incredible performance you delivered.” He looked at William. “Our spectators wereverypleased.” He turned and led them into the room, ignoring Richard, who’d opened his mouth to speak.
William liked Martin.
The scents of luxury cologne, brand-new leather, and aged liquor filled the air as they walked in. Although the lodge’s ceiling was high, the dim pink and blue lighting created a surprisingly subdued ambiance, making William feel as if he’d just stepped into a clandestine lounge where wealthy people met in secret. Talking above a whisper felt like a criminal offense.
High-end furniture sparingly occupied the plush carpeted floor, providing at most eight seats in a space big enough for sixty. Giant abstract paintings adorned the walls—the kind that barely had anything on the canvases, yet sold for millions. William had never gotten the appeal, but these looked kind of cool.
William’s stomach growled as he spotted a table holding a small buffet and a bucket of ice with two champagne bottles. He was famished, but he didn’t have time to salivate as two boxes hijacked his attention—one small and one large. Their prizes?
A delicately built man with long blond hair was sitting on the white leather sofa next to the boxes, his eager smile making William’s heart flutter in a curious way. The lamp behind him cast a soft halo of light around his head, and for a second, William’s exhausted brain wondered whether he was an angel.
