Chapter 116
Monica's expression didn't change. After dealing herself a face-down card, she continued dealing to Jack. Her right wrist, covered in a pure white glove, turned slightly as her fingertips sent the card cutting through the air in a sharp arc.
The second card landed precisely in front of Jack, face up — a King.
Jack looked at the Ace and King in his hand, and his smile deepened.
In Blackjack, an Ace counts as either 1 or 11, while King, Queen, Jack, and 10 all count as 10.
Together, these two cards made up the perfect hand in Blackjack — a "Natural Blackjack."
Yet Monica didn't pause for even a second, despite Jack getting such a perfect opening hand.
Following the strict dealing procedure, she immediately dealt herself a face-up card — a 7.
"Sir, Blackjack." Monica's voice was cool and clear, like ice cracking against jade, completely emotionless.
She extended her right hand in its pure white glove, fingertips lightly tapping the two cards in front of Jack, signaling him to verify them.
Jack didn't move. He just fixed Monica with those deep, fathomless eyes, as if admiring a fine piece of art.
Monica withdrew her hand and flipped over her face-down card with her left hand — a 4.
7 plus 4: 11 points.
By the rules, the dealer's face-up card was a 7, and with a total under 17, she had to keep drawing.
Monica pulled another card from the shoe and placed it face up — a 5.
16 points.
Still under 17. Without any expression, Monica drew again.
A 3.
19 points.
Without hesitation, Monica drew again.
A 2.
21 points.
Monica stopped.
She looked at the cards in front of her: 7, 4, 5, 3, 2 — totaling 21 points.
Then she raised her head and looked calmly at Jack.
"Sir, please show your cards."
Jack smiled slightly and turned over his two cards with his slender fingers.
Ace. King.
Natural Blackjack.
"Congratulations, you win." Monica's voice was still cool, but deep in her eyes, the faintest ripple passed through.
The room went dead silent.
Bruce's eyes went wide. He stared at the table in disbelief.
A Natural Blackjack — the perfect hand in the game — and yet the dealer had also reached 21.
This wasn't luck.
This was calculated.
Jack had known from the very beginning that he would get a Natural Blackjack, and that Monica would reach 21.
He had deliberately used the Ace-King combination to force Monica, step by step under the constraints of the rules, toward 21.
Because in Blackjack, when a player gets a Natural Blackjack, the player wins regardless of the dealer's total.
Unless the dealer also has a Natural Blackjack.
But Monica didn't.
She just had 21.
A perfect kill shot.
Both totaled twenty-one points — but the hands were not equal.
Jack's hand was the strongest. He'd hit twenty-one with his first two cards.
So even though Monica had also reached twenty-one, it didn't matter.
"Thank you for the game." The corner of Jack's mouth curved upward slightly as he collected his winnings.
Now, the chips in front of him were worth over three billion dollars — pushing close to four billion.
Keep in mind, he had started with just ten million dollars.
Over three billion dollars.
That wasn't just a number anymore. It was a mountain heavy enough to crush any ordinary person flat.
Bruce felt his legs go weak. Even breathing felt impossibly hard. He stared at the towering pile of chips in front of Jack — nearly reaching the ceiling — with only one thought left in his mind:
This isn't gambling. This is printing money.
From ten million to over three billion in just a few hands. Jack had turned the casino into his personal ATM. At this rate of winning, even selling the entire casino might not be enough to cover what he'd walk away with next.
"Again."
And yet.
Without a moment's hesitation, Jack pushed every single chip back onto the table.
He's insane.
Absolutely insane.
Bruce and the staff froze when they saw it.
They had witnessed plenty of high-stakes gambling before.
But never anything like this.
This was several billion dollars.
He pushed it all in without blinking — like the money meant nothing to him at all.
Monica's expression shifted when she saw this.
At that moment, a man's voice came through her earpiece — and something crossed her face, a hint of discomfort she couldn't quite hide.
Still, she turned to Jack and said, "Sir, your chips exceed this table's maximum bet for a single round."
"Oh? A limit?"
Jack leaned lazily back in his chair, looking at Monica with an easy smile. "Didn't you just tell me there was no betting limit in the VIP room?"
"I apologize. This rule was just set by management. Your bet is now capped at one million dollars per hand."
"As a gesture of goodwill, the casino will raise your cashback rate to ten percent per round."
Ten percent cashback.
Meaning, regardless of the outcome, Jack would receive a hundred thousand dollars back on every hand.
But he had no use for that kind of money.
He tilted his head slightly and looked at Monica with a half-smile. "Monica, are you saying your casino... can't afford to pay me?"
Those words landed like a poisoned blade, hitting the casino's most sensitive nerve with perfect precision.
Bruce went pale. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead instantly.
He knew exactly what those words meant.
If the casino had actually capped Jack's bets out of fear of losing, and that got out — their reputation would be finished. They'd be done in the world of the ultra-wealthy, permanently.
Monica said nothing. She simply watched Jack.
She finally understood. Jack had never come here to win money.
"Sir," Monica said, drawing a slow breath, her voice still composed, "this is a directive from management. There's nothing I can do..."
She paused and met Jack's bottomless gaze directly. "If you're not satisfied, you're welcome to cash out at any time and leave with your winnings."
"Leave?"
Jack let out a quiet laugh and casually tossed some chips onto the table. They landed with a sharp, clean sound.
"Monica, have you already forgotten what I said?"
Jack leaned slightly forward. His gaze locked onto Monica with an almost suffocating pressure, his voice low and steady.
"I said I would win. And..."
He let a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face and pointed to the massive stack of chips in front of him.
"We're just getting started. I'm not here to walk away with this money."
"What I want is your entire casino — every last cent, with interest — all of it mine."
The words hit the VIP lounge like a bomb going off.
Bruce nearly blacked out on the spot.
Insane.
This man had completely lost his mind.
He wasn't just trying to drain the casino — he wanted to swallow it whole.
Monica's pupils contracted sharply. For the first time, a crack appeared on that permanently unshakeable face.
She looked at Jack, and she finally understood.
She wasn't dealing with a gambler.
She was dealing with a madman.