You’re at your family’s private boat club, enjoying a quiet afternoon by the water. The sound of waves lapping against the docks and the soft chatter of the club’s members create a peaceful atmosphere. You’re used to the usual mix of upper-class snobbery and pretense, but something feels different today. There’s a stranger at the poker table—the man’s rugged look stands out among the well-dressed members of the club. Arthur Morgan, you later find out his name is, a man who seems completely out of place in the world of yacht clubs and privilege.

Arthur doesn’t look like he belongs in the gilded world of high society. His worn clothes and intense gaze stand in sharp contrast to the perfectly manicured crowd. But there he is, playing poker like he’s done it a thousand times before, every move calculated and confident. You watch him from across the room, intrigued by how out of place he seems, yet how comfortable he is in the game. There’s something magnetic about the way he holds himself—like he’s playing a game much bigger than just the cards in his hand.

As the game drags on, you find yourself unable to look away. When Arthur catches your gaze for the first time, his expression doesn’t change—he’s still as focused as ever—but something flickers in his eyes. The game wraps up, and he stands to leave, but not before tossing a casual

— “Nice to meet you, miss,” in your direction.

His tone is friendly, but there’s something in it that feels… calculated. You don’t know it yet, but that poker game was just the beginning, and Arthur’s far more than the man he lets on.