Chapter 73: Chapter 73 Roulette

Ella Reece’s white Rolls-Royce Boat Tail glided smoothly through the towering wrought-iron gates of her estate, the car’s pristine, handcrafted design gleaming under the soft glow of the mansion’s driveway lights. The custom-built vehicle, worth millions, was a statement of wealth, power, and exclusivity—an automobile fit for someone of her stature. The engine purred softly, barely making a sound as she maneuvered past the entrance, but just as she cleared the gates, she pressed the brakes, bringing the car to a stop.

The sudden pause made the guards exchange confused glances. Ella rarely ever stopped here. If she had anything to say, she usually did so through her driver or a passing word before disappearing into her estate. So, for her to step out personally meant something was up. One of the senior guards hesitated for a moment before approaching, his steps careful.

The car door opened gracefully, and Ella stepped out, exuding her usual aura of powerful elegance.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored navy-blue pantsuit, she looked nothing short of commanding. The blazer was sharp and structured, hugging her waist in a way that emphasized her natural curves while still maintaining an air of professionalism. A silky white blouse lay beneath, the top two buttons undone just enough to hint at her collarbone without being inappropriate. The trousers were sleek and fitted, tapering down to her polished black Louboutin stilettos, the red soles flashing briefly as she stepped onto the pavement. Around her wrist sat a platinum Rolex, minimalist yet absurdly expensive, and her earlobes were adorned with subtle but luxurious diamond studs. Her chestnut-brown hair was styled into a sleek low bun, not a single strand out of place, emphasizing her sharp cheekbones and piercing emerald-green eyes that locked onto the approaching guard.

She didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Did Liam come?” Her voice was calm but carried an underlying sharpness, as if she already suspected something was wrong.

The guard, standing at full attention, quickly responded, “No, ma’am, there has been no sign of him.”

Ella nodded, lifting her wrist slightly to check the time on her watch—8:30 PM. A quiet breath of relief left her lips. Good. She had been worried she might have delayed him, but it seemed he hadn’t arrived yet.

Just as she turned to get back into the car, the same guard hesitated before speaking again. “Ma’am, what kind of car does Mr. Liam drive? It would help us identify him when he arrives.”

Ella’s expression darkened instantly. Her sharp brows furrowed, and she turned her gaze back toward the man, eyes filled with icy irritation.

“He’s not driving any car,” she said coldly. “I already told you this before I left.”

The guard’s face stiffened, and for a brief second, she caught his mask slipping—a flicker of shock and realization flashed across his features before he quickly forced it back into a neutral smile. But she saw it.

Her voice dropped into something even colder, sharper, dangerous. “Did he come already?”

The guard’s throat bobbed slightly, and he hesitated before answering. “A young man did come looking for you, ma’am, but… we weren’t sure if it was Mr. Liam.”

Ella didn’t respond. Didn’t speak. Didn’t give them even the slightest reaction. Instead, she simply turned back, slid into the driver’s seat of her Rolls-Royce, and slammed the door shut.

The guards stood frozen as the luxury vehicle pulled away, moving through the private driveway that led to her mansion’s car park—a space filled with at least seven other cars, none worth less than half a million dollars. The engines of Bentleys, Ferraris, and Lamborghinis rested in silence under the soft, dim lighting, but Ella barely spared them a glance.

She parked smoothly and stepped out, her heels clicking sharply against the polished stone tiles as she strode toward the entrance. The grand double doors of her mansion swung open with force, and she stepped inside without hesitation, her movements quick and precise as she headed straight for the control room.

The moment she reached it, she didn’t even bother sitting down—her fingers immediately moved across the security system’s control panel, pulling up the camera feeds from the mansion’s front gate. Her emerald eyes narrowed as she rewound the footage, her irritation mounting with every second that passed.

And then—she saw it.

Everything.

The guards mocking Liam. The way they laughed at him, how they didn’t even bother checking when he showed Ella’s number as proof. The undisguised amusement in their body language as they dismissed him like some nobody. And Liam? He didn’t argue or fight back. He simply turned and left quietly—as if he had already expected this treatment.

Ella’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the monitors. Her anger simmered dangerously, a quiet storm brewing beneath her composed exterior.

She had given clear instructions.

She told these fools to immediately inform her the moment someone arrived.

She had personally described Liam’s appearance to them.

She had specifically ordered them to treat him with respect and provide him anything he needed.

And yet—they still disregarded everything.

Her fingers tightened into a fist, nails pressing slightly into her palm as she took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. Rational.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she reached for her phone and dialed Liam’s number.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

And then—voicemail.

His phone was off.

Ella closed her eyes briefly, exhaling slowly through her nose. The irritation that had been simmering beneath the surface spiked again, but this time, it wasn’t just directed at her incompetent guards.

It was at herself.

She should have known. Should have expected this.

And now, she needed to fix it.

Her eyes snapped open, burning with cold determination.

First, she was going to deal with the idiots at the gate.

Then, she was going to find Liam.

Liam stepped out of the taxi and took a slow breath, his eyes scanning the bright neon lights of the casino entrance. The towering building screamed luxury—red carpets at the entrance, massive golden doors, and a line of people dressed in expensive suits and designer dresses. This place was a playground for the rich, and he stuck out like a sore thumb.

Before stepping inside, he made his way to a small convenience shop nearby, grabbing a simple black face mask from the counter. It wasn’t anything fancy, just something to cover part of his face so he wouldn’t attract too much attention. He pulled out a couple of dollars, and the moment he handed them over, his balance dropped to a perfect 50 dollars.

“Alright… this is all I’ve got to work with.”

With the mask now covering the lower half of his face, he turned and walked back toward the casino, stepping inside.

The air inside was thick with cigarette smoke, perfume, and the scent of expensive alcohol. The sound of clinking glasses, beeping slot machines, and the murmur of gamblers surrounded him. Liam kept his head low, his mood still sour from what had happened earlier.

He wasn’t here to play.

He was here to win.

His sharp blue eyes scanned the massive hall, ignoring the blackjack tables, the poker games, and the slot machines filled with old men who looked like they had lost everything. Instead, his gaze landed on something more… predictable.

Roulette.

A large, round table sat in the middle of an elegant section of the casino, surrounded by players in suits and dresses, their eyes glued to the spinning wheel. A well-dressed dealer stood in front, skillfully throwing the small white ball into motion, his hands calm and precise.

Liam walked over, standing just behind the group of gamblers, watching the game play out.

His instincts told him to observe first.

The dealer spun the wheel again, and the ball bounced along the numbered pockets before finally landing on Black 22.

At that exact moment, a faint blue flicker flashed in his vision, and the system’s calculations appeared instantly.

Final Position: Black 22

Odds of landing: 100%

Calculation completed in 0.34 seconds

Liam’s breath hitched slightly.

The system had predicted it.

A second later, the dealer announced, “Black 22, winners take their payouts!”

Liam’s fingers curled slightly into fists. Holy shit.

The next round started. Again, the dealer threw the ball, and as it rolled along the edge, Liam’s vision flashed again.

Final Position: Red 7

Odds of landing: 100%

Calculation completed in 0.29 seconds

The ball bounced… then settled onto Red 7.

Liam stiffened slightly, trying to keep his expression blank.

“This is insane.”

For the third time, he watched silently, keeping his hands in his pockets as the ball was thrown again.

Another instant prediction.

Another 100% correct result.

His heart pounded.

“I can win. I can actually win this.”

It was time.

He pulled his only 50 dollars out of his pocket and stepped forward to the table, finally entering the game.

Liam moved quietly, placing his 50-dollar chip on the green felt table.

Some of the other players barely glanced at him, already focused on their own bets. A few high-rollers were dropping thousands, casually betting amounts that could pay someone’s rent for a year. But Liam didn’t care.

He wasn’t here to gamble.

He was here to cheat fate itself.

The dealer spun the wheel, and the moment the white ball was thrown, Liam’s vision flashed once again.

Final Position: Black 17

Odds of landing: 100%

Calculation completed in 0.32 seconds

“Black 17, huh?”

His fingers moved calmly and precisely, placing his entire bet on Black 17 just before the dealer called, “No more bets.”

The ball bounced.

Slowed.

Hesitated.

Then landed exactly on Black 17.

Liam exhaled quietly as the dealer announced, “Black 17!”

The chips in front of him multiplied instantly.

His 50 dollars had just turned into 1,750 dollars.

Some players glanced at him, a few raising their eyebrows. But no one suspected anything yet.

Liam just kept his face neutral.

“Let’s keep going.”

The next round began.

The dealer spun the wheel again, and as soon as the ball was in motion, Liam’s vision flashed.

Final Position: Red 3

Odds of landing: 100%

Calculation completed in 0.30 seconds

Without hesitation, he shifted his chips, placing 500 dollars on Red 3 just before the bets closed.

The ball bounced—then landed.

Red 3.

Some gamblers at the table turned their heads toward him now.

“Damn, this kid’s lucky.”

“Two back-to-back wins on exact numbers? That’s Crazy.”

But Liam remained calm, emotionless.

His balance skyrocketed again, now sitting at 17,500 dollars.

Liam was fully aware that he had already attracted attention.

Some of the other players eyed him suspiciously, and the dealer was starting to glance his way more often. Casinos weren’t stupid—they watched for patterns, unusual betting styles, and sudden winning streaks. If he kept hitting exact numbers, it wouldn’t be long before someone called security.

So, he decided on one final bet.

The ball was thrown, and the moment it started bouncing, his vision flickered again.

Final Position: Black 20

Odds of landing: 100%

Calculation completed in 0.31 seconds

This time, he placed 10,000 dollars on Black.

Not the exact number—just Black. A safer-looking bet that wouldn’t raise too many alarms.

The ball rolled, spun, then settled on Black 20.

Liam stayed expressionless, even as his winnings climbed to 27,500 dollars.

“That’s enough.”

He calmly picked up his chips and stepped away from the table, ignoring the murmurs around him.

A few players were watching him now.

Some were impressed.

Some were suspicious.

But Liam didn’t care.

His mood had shifted. He wasn’t angry anymore.

He was focused.

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