Chapter 115

"This is your tip."

Jack gave a casual flick of his wrist, and several chips with a dazzling sheen traced a smooth arc through the air before landing perfectly on the velvet tray in front of Monica.

Standing nearby, Bruce stared at those chips, his pupils suddenly contracting as he froze on the spot.

The waiters who had been busy around them looked on with eyes so full of envy it was almost painful.

Because each of those chips carried an enormous face value. Added together, they were worth at least a million dollars.

It was the kind of money that could drive ordinary people crazy — even change their lives forever.

But when everyone thought back to how Jack had just won a full eight hundred million at this very table, their shock gradually gave way to understanding.

Compared to that jaw-dropping eight hundred million dollars, a one-million-dollar tip was nothing.

Yet Monica, standing at the center of it all, looked at the pile of chips on the table with eyes as calm and still as deep water.

She didn't show the greed or shock that the other waiters couldn't hide. She simply gave a slight bow and, with both hands in her pure white gloves, gathered the chips in a slow, unhurried motion.

"Thank you for your tip, sir." Her voice was cool and clear, like jade striking ice, with not the slightest trace of flattery or emotion.

To Monica, this wasn't a tip at all. It felt more like mockery — a condescending provocation.

But instead of getting annoyed at Monica's icy indifference, Jack looked almost amused, as if he'd just discovered something interesting. The corners of his mouth curved into a playful smile.

He leaned back lazily in his leather chair, his slender fingers gently swirling the deep red wine in his glass, his gaze roaming freely over Monica's cool, strikingly beautiful face — as if trying to see right through her.

Finally, Jack took a slow sip of wine, tilted his head toward Monica, and asked, "Monica, want to guess how much I'll bet in the next round? And whether I'll win?"

The reason Monica was called the "God" of the casino wasn't just her gambling skill, which bordered on the supernatural. There was another very particular reason.

She could look into a person's eyes and read their mind.

This ability had served her well in past games, letting her play countless gamblers like puppets on strings.

But now, as she tried to let her gaze sink into the depths of Jack's eyes, it was like stepping into a bottomless swamp.

No greed. No calculation. No hunger to win or lose. Not even the faintest flicker of emotion.

Jack's eyes were like a perfectly polished obsidian mirror — flawlessly reflecting Monica's cool, beautiful face, while sealing every secret buried inside him behind that smooth, impenetrable surface.

For the first time in her life, Monica's heartbeat skipped.

The mind-reading ability she prided herself on had completely failed her — in front of this man.

But that wasn't even the most unsettling part.

What truly frightened her was the feeling that Jack had already seen through her. That she had no secrets from him whatsoever.

When dealing with gamblers in the past, Monica had always been composed and unruffled. She knew with absolute certainty that no one left her table with a single cent of profit.

But now, that sense of total control had been shattered.

Jack hadn't fallen into her rhythm at all. Instead, he was like a hunter perched high above, watching with calm curiosity as his prey edged along the rim of a trap he himself had laid.

"What's wrong? Can't figure it out?" Seeing the brief flash of bewilderment in Monica's eyes, Jack's smile deepened.

The next moment, Jack pushed every single chip he'd just won — an enormous mountain of them — forward without a moment's hesitation.

"All in!"

The words hit the room like a thunderclap.

Bruce stared at Jack across the table, eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

Again.

This guy was doing it again — betting everything he had.

Was he out of his mind?

This was over a billion dollars.

An ordinary person couldn't earn that much in an entire lifetime.

And yet those chips — worth over a billion — were pushed forward as lightly as if they were worthless plastic tokens.

At that moment, Bruce finally understood something.

Jack wasn't here just to gamble.

A normal person would have walked away long ago after winning this much. But Jack kept going. That meant he was after something else entirely.

Still, this wasn't the time to figure out his motives. The game in front of them was what mattered.

Seeing Jack go all in again, Monica's eyes narrowed slightly. She glanced toward him and met his deep, steady gaze.

Jack's lips curved just a little as he looked at her. "Monica, do you think I'm going to win this one, or lose?"

Monica's eyes turned ice cold. She looked at him and said flatly, "I think you're going to lose."

The moment those words landed, an invisible tension rose between them like smoke.

Their battle had officially begun.

Bruce caught the frost in Monica's eyes and knew immediately — she was serious.

He knew Monica too well.

In this casino, Monica always operated with effortless ease, wearing that aloof, untouchable air as if everything in the world was already under her control.

But the coldness in her eyes right now wasn't that lofty indifference. It was something real — a genuine fighting spirit.

She meant it.

And once she looked like that, the gambler sitting across from her was in serious trouble.

Bruce cast a slightly sympathetic glance at Jack.

As far as he could see, Jack's billion-plus dollars were about to be gone.

"Is that so?"

Jack just smiled. His eyes were calm and cool as he looked at Monica, his voice low and certain. "I think I'm going to win."

Monica held his gaze without flinching, meeting him head-on.

"In that case, let's begin."

With that, Monica picked up the shoe and started dealing.

The cards slid across the table with sharp, rapid sounds — crisp and urgent in the dead silence of the casino, each one landing like a knock against everyone's chest.

Bruce held his breath and didn't dare blink.

He kept his eyes fixed on the table, trying to catch some hint in Monica's movements. He found nothing.

Monica moved fast.

By the time his mind caught up, the first card had already been placed in front of Jack.

It was an Ace.

An Ace could count as one or eleven — flexible, adaptable, both aggressive and defensive. All in all, a solid card.

"Looks like my luck is holding." Jack glanced at his card, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.