Chapter 4: The Final Gambit

Sure enough, he taunted me, “Don’t tell me you can’t come up with the money. If you can’t, you can’t take back what you already bet.”

He leaned forward, his voice oozing false sympathy. "It’s not my fault if you can’t play in the big leagues," he said. The crowd watched, holding their breath, as if the outcome was already sealed.

My uncle realized what Jason was doing. He just laughed and went back to his game of dominoes with the other elders, not even sparing me a glance.

The older folks had seen their share of family drama, and sometimes, it was easier to let the younger generation burn itself out than get involved. My uncle just shook his head, muttering something about "kids these days."

I clenched my fists, silent. There was no way I could come up with thirty grand in cash.

My mind raced through every possibility—pawn shops, IOUs, raiding the savings account. I felt the walls closing in.

Just then, my fiancée spoke up: “It’s okay, let’s bet our condo.”

Her voice rang clear, steady. She looked at me, her eyes full of courage. The entire room froze, as if waiting for the next shoe to drop.

Everyone turned to look at her in shock.

Aunt Jo dropped her knitting. Even my little cousin’s jaw dropped. For a second, I thought time itself stopped. The air was thick with disbelief.

My uncle bit his cigarette, forgetting his dominoes. Jason stared at us, not sure if he was angry or nervous—his hands were shaking.

He’d always thought of me as an easy mark, someone who’d fold under pressure. Now, he wasn’t so sure. My fiancée’s calm confidence rattled him in a way my words never could.

Now, even the elders stopped their games and hurried over, urging us to stop raising the stakes.

My grandma shuffled over with her walker, her voice stern but trembling. “This is supposed to be a celebration, not a funeral for your savings!” The older generation crowded around, faces creased with worry.

My dad rushed to my side, punching my shoulder in agitation. “Are you out of your mind? You want us to lose everything?”

He squeezed my arm, his voice low but panicked. He’d worked a lifetime to keep a roof over our heads, and the thought of losing it all in a card game nearly broke him.

As he scolded me, he tried to peek at my cards, but I held them tight. Dad’s eyes flicked to my cards, then to my face, as if he could read the hand written in my expression. He’d taught me to play—now he was the one searching for tells.

Anyone who’s played Three Card Brag knows: never let anyone see your cards, or their reaction will give you away.

It’s the cardinal rule—no tells, no tips, no slip-ups. In that moment, I was a statue, my cards pressed tight against my chest.

I had three Kings. Only three Aces could beat me.

It was a hand you’d kill for, but with this much at stake, even kings felt vulnerable. Sweat beaded at my temple.

It was Jason who started this war. Any seasoned player knows—with three Kings, it’s all or nothing.

There was no way back, only through. This was the kind of hand people remembered for the rest of their lives—win or lose.

My fiancée said to Jason, “Our condo is worth fifty grand. We’re already betting twenty grand more than you. You want to match?”

Her voice was cool, measured—every bit the equal of his bluster. She made the numbers clear: we were playing for keeps.

My uncle shouted, “Are you all crazy?”

He waved his hands in the air, almost knocking over his coffee mug. You could see the panic in his eyes. He’d never seen the family like this before.

He leaned over, trying to push our chips back, and yelled at me, “Stop provoking your cousin! He’s a big shot, he doesn’t want to bother with you. Apologize now, or do you still want him to help you get a job in the future?”

He tried to strong-arm me into backing down, playing the old guilt card. The room held its breath, waiting to see if I’d fold.

I pressed my uncle’s hand down and snapped, “Leave everything where it is!”

My voice came out sharper than I intended, echoing in the tense silence. His hand jerked back, as if he’d touched a hot stove.

He hadn’t expected me to yell at him and trembled in shock.

He stared at me, his mouth working wordlessly. For the first time in years, the family power structure shifted.

I gritted my teeth. “When he bet five hundred, none of you said a word. When he bragged at dinner, you told my dad to light his cigarette. Today, he put up his car keys first. I’ll follow him to the end.”

My words came out in a rush—years of frustration boiling over. The table was silent, everyone looking from me to Jason, unsure whose side to take.

My uncle stared at me, dumbfounded. “How dare you talk to your elders like that?”

He shook his head, more in disbelief than anger, as if the world had turned upside down.

I looked coldly at Jason. “Either you add twenty grand and show your cards, or you give up everything you’ve already bet. There’s a third option: we both take our chips back and you bow and apologize to my dad.”

The room tensed—no one ever demanded an apology from Jason, let alone in front of the whole family. I let my words hang there, daring him to choose.

No one dared to speak.

Even the kids sensed the gravity. Not a fork clinked, not a chair creaked. It was just the ticking of the clock and the pounding of my heart.

Everyone had seen it earlier—Jason had let my dad light his cigarette without shielding the flame. But at that moment, no one dared to speak up for us.

It was like the whole house was holding its breath, waiting for someone—anyone—to break the tension.

I even caught my uncle’s pleased expression—he was secretly satisfied.

He hid it well, but for a split second, I saw the flicker of pride. Maybe he’d wanted someone to stand up to Jason for years, but never had the guts himself.

Jason laughed angrily. “You’re this cocky in front of your own family?”

His laugh was brittle, sharp—more threat than humor. You could see the mask slipping, his confidence faltering for the first time.

I shook my head. “From the moment you put your car keys on the table, we stopped being family.”

I met his eyes, letting him see I meant every word. At this table, there were no cousins, only competitors.