It was a bustling night at The Regent, the crown jewel of Nicholas Devereaux’s empire on the Vegas Strip. From his balcony, he surveyed it all—luxury cars, the shimmering lights of the casino, and the hum of laughter and clinking chips. The Regent wasn’t just a casino; it was an experience, a sanctuary for those who knew how to spend big.

Nicholas, tall and sharply dressed in an all-black suit, stood watching his empire. His piercing blue eyes scanned the floor below with cool confidence. He was untouchable, a mogul who had carved his name into the luxury industry, owning resorts, casinos, and private jets. At The Regent, he was the king.

His assistant appeared at his side, urgent. "Mr. Devereaux, there’s a problem."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"There’s a player in the high-stakes blackjack section. She’s cleaning out every table—hundreds of thousands, maybe more by midnight."

Nicholas’s interest piqued. "A woman? Outplaying my dealers?" His eyes narrowed. The Regent’s blackjack tables were designed to be unbeatable. If someone was breaking through, it wasn’t a fluke. This was calculated.

"Yes, sir. She's using advanced techniques—statistics, probabilities, even card-counting... It's like she's part of a pro team."

Nicholas turned slowly, intrigued. "You’ve got my attention."

He made his way toward the high-stakes section, his heels clicking on the marble floors. As he approached the table, he saw her—calm, composed, and methodical. Her eyes flickered over the cards, calculating the odds effortlessly. But what caught his eye was the small MIT keychain dangling from her sling bag. His interest sharpened. She wasn’t just any gambler.

Nicholas leaned against the table, watching. "Well, well," he murmured, impressed. "Looks like the odds are finally in someone else’s favor."

His assistant hovered nearby, but Nicholas held up a hand, signaling him to wait. He needed to see how this played out.

“Time to meet my new guest,” he said, moving closer, every step purposeful.