Chapter 314: The Shark Tank

The game continued as another Ace hit the felt with a soft whisper, and the entire table seemed to collectively hold its breath.

Ace ♠.

Three aces on the board now. The atmosphere shifted from casual tension to sharp focus. Even the dealer’s movements seemed more deliberate, as if he understood the gravity of what was unfolding.

Liam kept his expression pleasantly neutral, though internally, Lucy was already calculating probabilities with machine-like precision. His full house—Aces over Kings—was nearly unbeatable at this point. Unless someone was holding pocket Kings for a better full house, or somehow had the fourth Ace with a higher kicker than his King, he was golden.

Angela studied the board like it had personally offended her. Her fingers drummed once against the felt before she checked again.

The suited man—who Liam had mentally dubbed "Mr. Rolex" due to the gaudy timepiece that probably cost more than most people’s cars—leaned back in his chair. He made a show of considering his options, fingers steepled together like some sort of Bond villain.

Finally, he pushed forward a substantial bet. Fifty thousand.

The other players folded in quick succession, their cards hitting the muck with barely concealed relief. Nobody wanted to dance with whatever monster hand was brewing.

Which left just three: Angela, Mr. Rolex, and Liam.

Liam didn’t hesitate. "Call." He slid his chips forward smoothly.

Angela’s eyes flicked between them both. She seemed to be doing mental gymnastics, trying to piece together what each of them might be holding. After what felt like an eternity—though it was probably only fifteen seconds—she folded with a graceful sigh.

"Too rich for my blood," she said, though her smile suggested she wasn’t entirely disappointed to be out of it.

The dealer burned a card and revealed the river.

2 ♥.

A complete brick. Nothing card. Changed absolutely nothing about the board.

Mr. Rolex’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Liam caught it—the tiny microexpression that screamed *I don’t have what I was representing.*

The man had been bluffing. Or semi-bluffing with something like Ace-Queen or Ace-Jack, hoping Liam would fold to aggression.

"Check," Mr. Rolex said, his voice steady but lacking its earlier confidence.

Liam pretended to consider. He could check behind and just take the pot. Safe play. Smart play. But where was the fun in that?

"Bet. Eighty thousand."

The number landed on the table like a thunderclap.

Angela’s eyes widened. A few spectators who had started gathering around their table—word of a big hand travels fast in casinos—murmured to each other.

Mr. Rolex’s face went through several expressions in rapid succession: surprise, calculation, frustration, and finally resignation. He stared at his chips, then at the pot, then at Liam’s impossibly calm face.

"You hit trips?" he asked, though it wasn’t really a question. More like he was talking himself through it.

Liam just smiled politely. "Would you like to find out?"

The man’s lips pressed into a thin line. He counted out the chips once, twice, then shook his head. "I fold."

"Good fold," Liam said graciously as he collected the pot. He didn’t show his cards—no need to give away information for free.

Mr. Rolex looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just nodded curtly and took a long drink from his whiskey glass.

Angela leaned toward Liam conspiratorially. "You’re dangerous, Ethan."

"I’m just lucky," he replied with a modest shrug.

"Lucky and smart are two different things. You’re both."

---

The next few hands played out more cautiously. After seeing Liam take down a massive pot in his first serious hand, the table’s dynamics had shifted. People were less willing to get creative, more willing to fold marginal holdings.

Liam won two small pots with straightforward value betting. Nothing fancy. Just solid, textbook poker.

But on the eighth hand of the night, things got interesting again.

A new player had joined the table—a heavyset man in his fifties with a thick gold chain and the demeanor of someone who was used to being the biggest fish in whatever pond he swam in. His name was apparently Chen, and he announced himself by immediately buying in for two million dollars.

"Room feels dead," Chen declared as his mountain of chips was delivered. "Let’s wake it up, ah?"

His accent was thick Cantonese, and his smile was all teeth. Liam recognized the type instantly: a recreational player with too much money and not enough discipline. Exactly the kind of person professional poker players dream about.

The dealer shuffled and dealt.

Liam looked at his cards.

Queen ♠ — Jack ♠.

Suited connectors. Strong hand, plenty of playability.

Chen immediately raised to ten thousand without even looking at his cards properly. "Let’s go! Big pots, big fun!"

Two players folded. Angela called with an amused smile. Mr. Rolex folded with a disgusted grunt. Another player called.

Liam called as well.

The flop came:

10 ♠ — 9 ♠ — 3 ♦

Liam’s heart rate didn’t change—Lucy made sure of that—but internally, fireworks were going off. He had an open-ended straight flush draw. Any eight or King gave him a straight. Any spade gave him a flush. And if an eight of spades came? Straight flush.

The odds were delicious.

Chen bet first, slamming thirty thousand into the pot like he was playing Monopoly. "Come on! Who wants to play?"

Angela folded immediately, clearly not interested in whatever chaos Chen was brewing.

The other player tanked for a moment, then called.

Liam called as well, keeping his expression thoughtfully neutral.

The turn card was revealed.

8 ♥.

Liam’s straight. Nine through King.

Chen didn’t even wait for action to be on him. "Fifty thousand!" He pushed out chips aggressively, nearly knocking over his drink in the process.

The other player grimaced and folded.

Liam acted like he was considering. He let a few seconds tick by, enough to suggest uncertainty. Then: "Call."

Chen grinned widely. "You have pair? Two pair maybe? I crush you!"

The dealer burned and revealed the river.

4 ♠.

Liam now had a flush to go with his straight. Not that he needed the flush—his straight was already good—but it was nice insurance.

"All in!" Chen declared suddenly, pushing his entire remaining stack forward. It was approximately three hundred thousand.

The table went silent.

Angela’s mouth fell slightly open. Even the dealer looked momentarily startled.

Liam studied Chen carefully. The man was practically vibrating with excitement. His pupils were dilated. His breathing was rapid. He was either on the world’s most insane bluff or he thought he had an unbeatable hand.

Lucy ran the simulations instantly. Based on Chen’s betting pattern and psychological profile, she calculated he most likely had either a set—three of a kind—or maybe two pair. Possibly he’d caught a flush as well with the spades, though his pre-flop aggression suggested big cards, not suited garbage.

But none of those hands beat Liam’s straight.

"Call," Liam said simply, pushing forward the chips.

Chen jumped up from his seat, nearly knocking it over. "Yes! Finally, action! You want to see? I show you!"

He flipped over his cards dramatically.

Ace ♠ — 2 ♠.

A wheel. The lowest possible straight: Ace through five. And also a flush.

Chen was beaming, clearly thinking his flush was golden. "Flush! I have flush! You have what?"

Liam turned over his Queen-Jack of spades slowly.

"Straight. Nine through King."

The color drained from Chen’s face as the dealer confirmed it. "Straight beats flush—no wait."

The dealer examined the board again. "Both players have flush. Higher flush wins."

Chen’s flush was Ace-high.

Liam’s flush was King-high.

For a moment, Liam thought he’d lost, but then Lucy whispered the truth in his mind, "Both have flushes, but your straight is still higher. The straight comparison doesn’t matter here—flush over flush, and his Ace-high flush beats your King-high flush."

Wait. No.

Liam rechecked the board mentally:

Board: 10♠ 9♠ 3♦ 8♥ 4♠

His hand: Q♠ J♠

Chen’s hand: A♠ 2♠

For the flush, they both needed five spades. The board had 10♠ 9♠ 4♠. With Liam’s Q♠ J♠, his flush was Q-J-10-9-4. With Chen’s A♠ 2♠, his flush was A-10-9-4-2.

Ace-high flush beats King-high... no, wait. Queen-high flush.

Chen’s Ace-high flush beat Liam’s Queen-high flush.

The dealer pushed the massive pot toward Chen.

Liam blinked once, twice, processing the loss. Then he laughed genuinely.

"Well played. The flush got me."

Chen looked confused for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe his luck himself, then burst into booming laughter. "I told you! Big pots, big fun! Even I didn’t know I had flush until cards turn over!"

Angela was shaking her head in disbelief. "That’s the most Chen thing I’ve ever seen."

Liam chuckled and leaned back. Honestly? That hand had been genuinely fun. Sometimes variance was just variance.

"A drink, sir?" an attendant appeared at his elbow.

"No. I’m good," Liam said.

Chen was still celebrating, stacking his chips with the glee of a child building a tower. Mr. Rolex looked disgusted at the entire display.

But Liam just smiled.

The night was still young, and he had plenty more chips to play with.

The game was just getting started.