Prologue

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San Diego, California

The air was thick with the smell of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol as men gathered around a poker table. Bets were high, and many had folded in fear of losing millions—except for one man who believed he could take on the big players.

Mark Anderson was convinced he was a poker master, his ego blinding him as he faced off against one of the state's most powerful figures, Lucas Carter.

Lucas was a ruthless man, known for using women and making millions with ease, reducing grown men to submission. He was not someone to be trifled with, yet Mark was determined to prove he could stand up to him. Many had tried before, but they failed to realize that Lucas controlled the game and knew all the tricks to bring men to their knees.

Lucas was not a patient man. His cold demeanor was starting to pay off as he smirked at the round man across from him, who was sweating over his cards. It was clear that Mark Anderson had lost the bet.

"Give it up, Mark. Let me claim my prize already," Lucas said, watching fear flicker in Mark's brown eyes.

Frustration began to show on Lucas's handsome face as he lost his patience.

With a heavy sigh, Mark slowly lowered his cards and placed them on the table. "I fold." Hurt and betrayal were evident in his voice and expression, but Lucas was indifferent; he simply wanted what was owed to him.

Standing up from his chair, Lucas leaned over the table and looked at Mark. "You have two days to get me my money, or else," he said, his tone firm.

"M-Mr. Carter, please, I need more time," Mark pleaded, desperation etched across his face.

Lucas marched around the table, his anger palpable. Grabbing Mark by the collar, he pulled him close. "Two days, or else," he growled, shoving Mark away as if he were repulsive. With that, Lucas turned on his heel and walked out.

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

Two days later, Mark Anderson entered the lavish Carter Mansion, uncertain about the meeting's outcome. He was about to confess to Lucas that he didn't have the money—he never did. During poker that night, he had hoped for a miracle, but as his funds dwindled, he realized he should have quit before it got out of hand. Now, he was facing the man who could ruin him.
Mark understood the risks and potential losses, but he had no choice. It was all or nothing, and as he crossed the mansion's threshold, he committed himself to the situation.
"Lucas? Mr. Anderson is here to see you," Bentley announced, his tone disapproving.
"Thank you, Bentley. Show him in," Lucas replied, his voice smooth but authoritative.
As the study door opened, Lucas turned to face Mark, his expression unreadable.
"I assume you're here to settle your debt?" Lucas asked, mockery in his tone.
Mark fidgeted nervously. "I-I'm broke, sir. I need more time, b-but..." Before he could finish, Lucas shoved him against the door, knocking the breath from his lungs.
"If you think you can waltz in here and ask for more time, you're mistaken," Lucas growled, his gaze unyielding and suffocating.
"But I have a proposition! Please, hear me out. It'll be worth your time, Mr. Carter," Mark stammered, trembling under Lucas's intense scrutiny. A smirk crossed Lucas's lips as he released Mark's shirt, stepping back but maintaining the room's tension.
"Go on, enlighten me. I can't imagine what you could offer me that's worth the millions you owe," Lucas said, arms crossed over his broad chest, exuding confidence and menace.
Mark took a deep breath, his heart racing. He was on the brink of losing everything he valued, but he had to take the risk. Desperation pushed him to speak. "I can help your business, Lucas. I know the industry inside and out. I can make deals and find opportunities—just give me a chance to prove my worth."

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

Arianna had just finished cooking dinner when her father walked into the house. She called out, "Hi, Dad! Dinner will be done shortly," but remained focused on her famous Italian salad, her favorite sanctuary. Lost in her culinary rhythm, she didn't notice the two men entering the kitchen until she turned around and gasped at the sight of a stranger leaning against the counter.
In shock, she dropped her mother's cherished glass bowl, which shattered on the floor. Tears filled her eyes as she knelt to clean up the mess, mourning the loss of a family relic.
"Here, let me help you, baby girl. It's okay," her father said, rushing to her side, his voice soothing yet tense. As he gathered the shards, Arianna's heart raced, feeling the stranger's curious gaze upon them.

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