Chapter 92

• Richard's POV
• The room was buzzing with tension. Alex's face was a mask of barely-contained frustration, his eyes burning holes through the poker table. I glanced at the stack of chips in front of me, feeling a mix of satisfaction and unease. Winning was sweet, but Alex was like a coiled spring, ready to snap.
• "Another round," Alex said, his voice tight. He tossed a fresh stack of chips onto the table with a flick of his wrist. The amount was staggering, over a hundred thousand dollars. The crowd around us shifted, whispers igniting like sparks in dry grass.