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"Poker," Marco said, feeling a thrill shoot through him as he watched Frank fall right into his trap.
And then it was on.
Round after round, Marco barely managed to keep Frank's greed-fed frenzy in check, subtly goading him into making larger and larger bets. With each roll of the dice and flip of a card, Frank's confidence grew, emboldening him to reach further and further beyond his means.
"Come on, Frank, don't hold back now," Marco taunted playfully, his fingers dancing over the edge of his own pile of chips. "We both know fortune favors the bold."
"Damn right," Frank growled, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he pushed another stack of chips into the pot. "I could do this all night!"
And just like that, the trap was sprung.
Marco stopped losing.
With each subsequent loss, Frank's face grew paler, and Marco could see the desperation begin to creep in behind his eyes. It was almost too easy.
"Looks like luck's not on your side tonight," Marco observed with a smirk, watching Frank's trembling hands as they clutched at the few remaining chips. "Alright, Frank," Marco said. "This is it. Time to put your money where your mouth is."
"Wh-what do you mean?" Frank stammered, beads of sweat now dripping down his flushed face.
"Let's make things interesting," Marco proposed with a devilish grin, leaning in closer so that their faces were mere inches apart. "One final bet. Winner takes all."
Frank hesitated, clearly unnerved by the intensity of Marco's gaze. "What are you suggesting?"
"Here's the deal: I'll bet my entire savings: one hundred thousand dollars," Marco revealed, feeling a thrill run down his spine as he laid his cards on the table, both literally and metaphorically. "In exchange, you bet Joey's freedom."
"Joey?" Frank's eyes widened at the mention of his son's name, but Marco could see the spark of interest flicker behind his greedy expression. "You want me to wager my own son?"
"Imagine what you could do with all that money. You'd be set for life. But if you don't have the guts... well, then maybe you don't deserve to win."
Frank wavered, intrigued but confused. "He's still working off my debt to your boss, I don't own him…"
"You win, you can buy him back. You lose…" Marco looked him in the eye. "You never bother him again."
"You want me to give up on my own son? Look, Marco, I know you're trying to manipulate me…" Frank admitted, but there was a raw hunger in his eyes that betrayed his wavering resolve. "Butdamn, that's a lot of money."
"Exactly," Marco agreed, his heart pounding in anticipation. "So, are you in, or are you out?"
"Fine," Frank relented with a shaky exhale, revealing his lack of loyalty to his own son. "I'm in." Belatedly, he added, "For Joey's freedom."
"Excellent choice," Marco purred, unable to suppress the satisfaction that bloomed within him as he reveled in the knowledge that he was one step closer to claiming Joey for himself. "Let's play."
The tension in the room built like a crescendo, each beat of silence more deafening than the last. A hushed audience gathered around the poker table, their eager eyes darting between Marco and Frank as they waited with bated breath for the cards to be dealt. The air was thick with anticipation, every molecule charged with electricity that buzzed beneath the skin and made the hairs on the back of Marco's neck stand on end.
"Place your bets, gentlemen," the dealer commanded, his voice smooth and practiced. Marco slid his stacks of chips to the center of the table, the weight of the hundred thousand dollars he'd bet feeling heavy in his chest. He knew it was reckless, but the thought of Joey in his arms - free from debt, free from his father's control…
It was worth everything. And then some.
As the dealer began to distribute the cards, Marco couldn't help but think about how long it had taken him to save up that money. Every spare dollar he'd managed to scrape together over the years had been squirreled away, all for the dream of one day opening his own bar. A place where he could call the shots, where people like him and his men could escape the confines of their lives for just a little while.
But now, as that dream teetered on the edge of a knife, Marco realized that there was something far more important at stake. His heart ached with longing, the desire for Joey consuming him like a wildfire. He knew, deep down, that if he won this bet, if he claimed Joey as his own, it would change everything.
"Fold or call?" the dealer asked, snapping Marco out of his thoughts.
This was it.
"Call," Marco murmured, his voice steady despite the storm raging within him. Frank followed suit, and the room seemed to collectively hold its breath.
The moment of truth arrived as Marco laid his cards on the table, revealing a flush. The room erupted in a mix of gasps and applause. Marco's victory was met with admiration and envy from the other players, their eyes lingering on him with a newfound respect.
