Then I'll go with low," Arnold declared, his voice calm but defiant. It was clear he intended to oppose Felicia at every turn; if she picked high, he'd pick low. His friends, a group of young socialites, laughed, tossing their chips onto the table. They weren't there for the winnings; this was entertainment, a way to support their friend while watching Felicia lose her composure. They fully expected her to be flustered and embarrassed by the end of the round.

The dealer rang the bell, signaling the end of bets. The cover lifted to reveal the roll: 4-5-5. High! Felicia won. A pile of chips quickly stacked up before her. She smirked at Arnold, her eyes brimming with challenge. "Do you wanna go another round?"

"Bring it on!" Arnold snorted, his pride stung. "That was just the first round. Beginner's luck."

A new round began. Felicia placed her bet on high again, doubling down without hesitation. Still fuming, Arnold didn't hesitate. "Low," he declared. Despite raising their eyebrows at Felicia's winning streak, his friends stuck by him and chose low.

The cover lifted. Unbelievably, it was the exact same result as before—4-5-5. High! Felicia won again. She leaned back, her expression serene but clearly pleased. Meanwhile, Arnold's jaw tightened, his frustration mounting.

"Two rounds don't mean anything," he snapped. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Of course not," Felicia replied sweetly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Let's keep going. Maybe this time, you'll actually win."

For the third round, Felicia picked low. Her bet was modest, giving the impression she wasn't entirely confident. Arnold, of course, chose high, and his friends, caught between doubt and stubbornness, followed suit. Just before the betting closed, Felicia casually pushed another stack of chips into her pile. The cover lifted—1, 2, 2. Low!

A chorus of groans erupted around the table as Felicia's chips grew even further. "Three in a row! Can you believe this?" one onlooker muttered. "It's just luck," another grumbled, crossing his arms. "I'm not giving up. Let's go again!"

The tension escalated. The young socialites grew more determined with each loss, refusing to back down. Arnold, with his pride on the line, was equally relentless. Round after round, the game continued.

By the twelfth round, Felicia's uncanny winning streak remained unbroken. She even let Arnold bet first a few times, just to mix things up. But no matter what he chose, she followed her instincts and kept winning. Arnold's initial arrogance had faded into disbelief, then frustration, finally settling into stunned silence. His face was a mixture of shock and resignation.

"This... can't be real!" one of his friends exclaimed. "There's no way she's this lucky!"

The dealer, unbothered by the accusations, calmly explained, "Our tables at Opulent Elegance are strictly monitored. Cheating is impossible."

Satisfied, Felicia decided it was time to call it a night. She gathered her winnings—a staggering forty thousand in chips, most from Arnold's substantial losses. She'd been reasonable; she could have bled him dry, but she decided to quit while she was ahead. She gathered her winnings and prepared to leave, but Arnold wasn't having it.

"No way," he said firmly. "We're not done until I say we're done." Felicia sighed, realizing he wasn't going to let this go. Fine. If he wanted to lose more money, who was she to stop him? She dropped her bag back on the table and slid into her seat with a smirk. "Alright, if you insist on gambling, then I'll humor you."