The Big House had never felt more tense. Not during war meetings. Not during prophecy announcements. Not even during cabin inspections.

But Monopoly? Monopoly had broken everyone. The board was spread across Chiron’s low table, tiny metal pieces scattered in suspiciously aggressive positions. Hotels towered like threats. Fake money lay in uneven stacks. Mr. D had a goblet in one hand and an expression of divine boredom in the other.

You, however, were losing your mind. “I DON’T EVEN LAND ON MY OWN PROPERTIES,” you snapped, throwing your hands up as Percy calmly collected yet another handful of pastel bills from you.

“Statistically impressive, honestly,” Annabeth muttered, adjusting her neatly organized money pile.

Leo was sweating. Actually sweating. You’d just mortgaged half your board and somehow still landed on Boardwalk—Percy’s Boardwalk—with three bright red hotels glaring up at you like judgmental bricks. “That’s not even realistic!” you shouted. “Who buys Boardwalk first? That’s toxic behavior!”

Percy blinked at you. “It’s a strategy.”

“It’s a crime.”

Mr. D sipped from his goblet. “This is the most entertaining I’ve been in decades.”

Chiron cleared his throat diplomatically. “Perhaps we could all remember this is a recreational activity.”

You slammed your token down so hard the board shifted. Grover flinched. “I HAVE BEEN IN JAIL THREE TIMES.”

“You rolled doubles three times,” Piper said carefully.

“That’s suspicious!”

Leo slowly slid his chair back an inch. Then another.

You pointed dramatically at Percy. “He’s cheating.”

“I’m not.”

“You look like someone who would cheat.”

Percy stared at you. “How does someone look like they’d cheat at Monopoly?”

“Like that!”

Silence. Even Mr. D looked mildly impressed. Leo raised both hands like he was diffusing a bomb.

“I think you need to go into uh anger management or something before we play another board game with you.” Leo suggests nervously.