Yvette sat on the couch, hands resting at her sides, legs crossed. She took the cup from Frankie, smirked slightly, and leaned back, tapping the scattered cards with cool fingers. Raising an eyebrow, she paused before asking plainly, "How much are you betting?"

Startled, Frankie looked up, confused. Sienna quickly replied, "Yve, Frankie sets the game. The cap is one hundred fifty thousand dollars."

Yvette glanced at the chips. Chris had few; Sienna and Bruce, a dozen each; Frankie had a towering, almost overflowing stack. The winners and losers were immediately apparent.

Frankie's eyes lit up. He couldn't reclaim the courtyard house Mr. Chavez had swindled him out of, but he could win some money from Yvette. He sincerely extended an invitation. "Yve, do you play? Want to join us?"

Yvette nodded and joined the poker table. Frankie fetched snacks, juice, and sweets from the fridge. In the first ten rounds, Frankie won eight. He was thrilled.

"Yve, you're not good at cards. If we'd known, we wouldn't have played for one hundred fifty thousand dollars," Frankie said.

Bruce dropped a deuce onto the table impassively, glancing at the elated Frankie. Yvette propped her cheek, too lazy to move. After slowly sipping her juice, she looked up at Frankie, a sly grin playing on her lips. Relaxed and carefree, she asked, "How much do you want to play for?"

Frankie considered, then, amidst everyone's gaze, held up three fingers. Yvette casually toyed with the cards, lounging on the couch. "Three million dollars? Okay," she said.

Chris paused, then quietly transferred three million dollars from his account. I might not know how to play, but I sure know how to lose, he thought. Bruce and Sienna didn't care; the amount was trivial.

Frankie had intended to say three hundred thousand dollars. He felt awkward winning so much from his friends. Yve hasn't won a single round, probably because she's unfamiliar with the game, he thought. But he hadn't expected a three-million-dollar bet. Well, then I can't be blamed for what happens, he thought.

Sienna reshuffled the cards. The game became a simple card comparison, with everyone's stakes at three million dollars. In the last round, Frankie won five hundred thousand dollars, Bruce one hundred thousand, and Yvette lost her one hundred fifty thousand.

Emmett descended from upstairs, serving as dealer. After dealing five cards, he said, "Place your bets." He looked the part. Chris, Bruce, and Sienna glanced at their cards and tossed in chips.

Yvette didn't look at hers; her eyes were half-closed, slender fingers occasionally tapping the cards. Frankie glanced at his cards and looked up, brimming with confidence.

Yvette sipped her juice and spoke unhurriedly, "Single round to decide the winner?"

Frankie had a straight flush to the King. Unless Yvette had a straight flush to the Ace, he'd win. The others folded, revealing weak hands; Bruce's pair was the best. Only Yvette and Frankie's cards remained hidden.

Frankie frowned, hesitant to respond. If I go all-in, there's no comeback. I'm insecure. Yve might have a trick up her sleeve. But how can she be so confident without even looking at her cards? he thought.

Yvette remained unhurried, leisurely drinking her juice, glancing at her phone without pressuring Frankie. He hesitated, confident in his skills, believing that even a genius couldn't also be a gambling prodigy.

"I'm all in. Yve," Frankie said.

Yvette's face was serene, delicate eyebrows slightly arched, fingers lightly touching her cup. "Okay," she responded.

Emmett cleared his throat. "Since both Yve and Frankie agreed, let's decide this in one round. Who shows first?"

Frankie, confidently smiling, revealed his straight flush to the King. "Yve, a straight flush. Unless you have an Ace, your three million dollars will be gone. Thank you, Yve, and thanks everyone for watching," he said, smiling. Emmett, Bruce, and Chris weren't surprised; Frankie's skills, learned from a Mysonna casino master, were formidable.

Yvette raised her eyebrows, setting down her juice. Turning her head slightly, she spoke calmly, "Thank you for the three million dollars. Sorry for your expenses today."

Emmett was startled. Bruce sighed, thinking, I lost another three million dollars. Sienna eagerly turned over Yvette's cards: another straight flush, perfectly topping Frankie's. Yvette had won.

Frankie was frustrated. Where's the heir to the master gambler's legacy? Where's the next big shot? Do I just lose like that? he thought. He realized Yvette had been playing dumb.

Yvette stood gracefully, her voice cool and indifferent. "I'm going upstairs; you guys take your time." She glanced at the defeated Frankie and offered, "You did pretty well."

Frankie was speechless. Thank you. But why do I feel no comfort at all? he thought. The others were speechless, thinking, Yve is both casual and precise with her teasing.

The next day, Flying Fish awoke to a doorbell ringing. Barefaced and disheveled, she stomped to the door, ready to yell, but saw a perfectly groomed elderly man in a suit. Her eyes widened. It was Silas Walson, dean of the Mysonna medical lab.

Why is this important figure at my apartment? she wondered. She had previously stolen an antique vase from his house while undercover as a maid.

Enemies meeting unexpectedly. If he recognizes me, given his poisons, I might end up dead like Charles, she thought. Then she paused.

Silas Walson, Charles? Boss mentioned someone bringing the antidote today. Could that be Silas? Oh my God! He's a national treasure, rarely seen. Who is Boss? How can she get Silas to deliver the antidote? she thought.

She decided to call for confirmation. She dialed Yvette's number and cautiously asked, "Boss, do you know who's bringing the antidote for Charles?"

Yvette, having just gotten up and chosen a white tracksuit, answered coolly, "Is it Silas?"