Chapter 6: The Last Card

Jason mocked, “The houses aren’t equal. You’re still two hundred grand short—how will you make up the difference? If you can’t match, get off the table and stop whining.”

He rolled his eyes, as if I was wasting everyone’s time. The crowd murmured, some nodding, some shaking their heads.

I took a deep breath. “Our neighborhood is about to be bought out for development. My parents and my soon-to-be wife—four people in total. When the compensation comes, it all goes to you.”

I laid out the numbers, hoping it would be enough to satisfy his greed. Everyone knew the rumors about the new strip mall coming to town, and how much the buyouts could be worth.

Jason’s wife laughed, “You think this is New York? It’s just a small town. Four people’s payout, maybe ten grand tops. Still short a lot.”

Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, but I held my ground. I wasn’t about to let her talk me down.

She turned to Jason, “I’m not mocking your relatives, but they’re scraping together everything and still can’t make it.”

Her words stung, but I kept my eyes on Jason. This wasn’t about her. It never was.

Jason shrugged, “The way you’re scrambling for stakes is just sad. Sometimes respect is given, sometimes you lose it yourself. If you can’t match, just fold.”

He said it like a final verdict, expecting me to slink away in shame. But I wasn’t going anywhere.

My uncle, seeing I couldn’t match the bet, finally relaxed and lectured my dad, “Your son doesn’t know his limits. See? Now he can’t match, so everything he put up before is lost.”

He puffed up, glad the drama was almost over—at least for him. He wanted things back to normal, even if it meant I took the fall.

My dad stood there, pale, swallowing hard. “Why are you so foolish? What do you want to bet next? You’re gambling away the whole family.”

His words were a punch to the gut. I could hear the fear and disappointment in his voice, but I couldn’t back down now.

I said nothing, just kept using my phone, applying for loans on every app I could find.

My fingers flew across the screen, heart pounding. One app after another—PayPal, Cash App, credit card advances. I didn’t care about the interest. All I needed was to stay in the game.

Finally, I put my phone in front of Jason. The balance showed eighty grand.

A collective gasp went up around the table. Even Jason looked rattled—he hadn’t expected me to find that much, not in a million years.

He was stunned. “How’s your credit limit so high?”

His voice was shaky, eyes darting from the screen to my face, as if searching for a trick.

I said I’d borrowed from eight platforms and entered all my vehicle info. I’d originally wanted to use this money for the wedding, but now it was coming in handy.

My voice was steady. I looked him dead in the eye, letting him know I wasn’t bluffing. If I lost, I’d be paying for it for the rest of my life—but at least I’d go down fighting.

Jason laughed angrily, biting a cigarette. “You’re really something, borrowing online to gamble with me. Do you know if you can’t repay, your life is ruined?”

He flicked his lighter open, the flame dancing in the dim kitchen light. There was a hint of respect in his voice now—just a hint.

I said, “I know. But I’m here to play with you to the end.”

I leaned forward, the challenge clear in my voice. The rest of the family looked at me like I’d lost my mind—but I’d never felt more clear-headed.

He asked, “You really want to go down with me?”

He blew out a stream of smoke, eyes narrowed, searching for any sign of weakness. I held his gaze, refusing to flinch.

I asked, “When my dad lit your cigarette, why didn’t you shield the flame?”

The question caught him off guard. The room went silent again, every eye on Jason. The old rules still meant something here.

My dad got anxious, rushing to my side, grabbing my arm. “Jason’s a big shot—he’s just careless. Stop gambling, there’s no need to go this far. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

He tried to smooth things over, his hand trembling as he gripped my forearm. But I could feel his shame and anger, simmering just below the surface.

Jason suddenly roared, “I did mean it!”

His voice bounced off the walls, making the windows rattle. The truth was out now, ugly and raw.

My dad’s face turned ashen. “So many people here today, give your uncle some respect…”

He tried to salvage what was left of family pride, but the damage was done. The room felt colder than ever.

But Jason grew impatient, pointing at my dad and shouting, “It was your son who started it with me today. What respect do you have? If my dad wasn’t your brother, would I hang out with poor relatives like you? I didn’t shield the flame on purpose. You should be grateful just to light my cigarette. A bunch of nobodies.”

He spat the words like venom. The rest of the family shrank away, not wanting to get caught in the fallout.

The more he spoke, the uglier my dad’s face became.

I saw the pain in my dad’s eyes—a lifetime of hard work, dismissed with a few cruel words. My own anger blazed hotter than ever.

My uncle just sighed, pretending to scold, “How can you talk to your elders like that? Don’t mind him, he’s drunk. He’s always showing off, thinks he’s something just because he makes money.”

He shook his head, acting like the peacemaker, but everyone could see he was just glad the spotlight wasn’t on him.

I glanced at my uncle. He seemed to be scolding his son, but was really just bragging.

He hid a smirk behind his hand, proud that his boy was the big shot—even if it meant tearing the family apart.

Jason slammed the table and glared at me, “You little punk, you really want to play everything against me? Fine, let’s show our cards.”

He pounded his fist, making the silverware jump. His face was red, veins standing out on his neck. He was all in, and he wanted me to know it.

He reached for his cards, but I asked curiously, “When did I say I wanted to show cards?”

I cocked an eyebrow, voice calm. Everyone stared at me, shocked by the audacity.

He froze. Everyone froze.

It was like someone hit pause on the whole scene—the tension was razor-sharp.

He stared at me. “You’re still not showing?”

His voice was incredulous, part anger, part fear. He hadn’t expected me to hold out this long.

I shook my head. “Not showing.”

I let the silence stretch, daring him to make the next move.

This is the scariest part of Three Card Brag. Whoever can’t take the pressure and asks to show cards first has to put up another bet. And the bet can’t be less than the last round.

It was a psychological war now—a standoff that could break anyone, rich or poor.

We’d already bet so much. Whoever wants to show has to put up another three hundred grand.

The stakes were now sky-high—higher than anyone in our family had ever played for.

I shrugged. “If you can’t take it, you can show cards. Just put up your bet first.”

My voice was cool, steady. I didn’t blink, didn’t smile. I just waited.

Jason glared at me, furious. “You just want to trick me into another bet. Even if I match you now, you can’t match next round. You just want me to show and fold.”

He spat the words out, desperate to regain control. The rest of the family watched, eyes wide, waiting for someone to blink.

I replied indifferently, “Think what you want. I’m just telling you, I’m not showing. If you don’t match, that means you fold.”

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. He could rant all he wanted—I wasn’t budging.

Jason’s wife got anxious, yelling at me, “How can you be so shameless? Just show the cards! Why make us put up another bet?”

She slammed her hand on the table, voice shrill. But I just stared at her, unfazed. Her tantrum only made her look desperate.

I glanced at her, saying nothing.

The silence spoke louder than any words. Everyone knew the rules, even if they didn’t like them.

In front of everyone, the more she lost her temper, the more embarrassing it was.

She was unraveling, her confidence gone. The room watched in uncomfortable silence.

Jason was breathing heavily in anger.

His face was red, his hands shaking. He looked ready to explode.

Finally, he gritted his teeth and said, “Fine, I’ll put up my business. It’s worth three hundred grand, right?”

His voice was shaky but determined. He’d run out of things to bet—except for the company he’d built from the ground up.

His wife hurriedly tried to stop him, almost frantic, “Why are you still betting? He’s just playing dirty, trying to trick you into another bet!”

She grabbed his arm, but he shook her off. He was past listening to reason.

Jason snapped, “If I back down now, everything I’ve bet is gone.”

His pride wouldn’t let him fold, not with the whole family watching. He was trapped, and he knew it.

His wife was nearly hysterical, slapping the table. “What if he has three Kings or three Aces?”

She was on the verge of tears, her voice breaking. I almost felt sorry for her.

He shot back, “And what if I fold and find out he was bluffing?”

His eyes were wild, desperate for a way out. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing everything—or looking weak.

She broke down, “Do you think someone would risk everything just to bluff you?”

She looked at me, pleading. I met her gaze, unflinching.

He shook his head. “You don’t understand Three Card Brag. Shut up.”

He barked the words, his patience gone. The room fell silent again.

I looked at Jason. He was right—Three Card Brag is like this. Sometimes, people really do go all-in with nothing, just to scare their opponent into folding.

I thought of all the poker games in the back of the VFW, the stories told over beers about men who risked it all for pride. Sometimes they won. Sometimes they walked home in the snow, pockets empty, pride shattered.

But he overlooked one thing: I never bluffed him. He was the one who put up his car keys first and decided to raise the stakes so high.

He’d started this war, not me. And now, for the first time, he had to live with the consequences.

My jaw ached from clenching. Jason’s knuckles were white around his cards, sweat shining at his hairline. Jason’s hand hovered over his cards, the whole family leaning in. No one breathed. In that moment, everything—money, pride, love—hung on a single flip.