Amelia Fox

The air in the Emerald Room was thick with the scent of cigars, champagne, and hidden sins. Here, in the smoky heart of the casino, reigned Amelia Fox, a queen in a web of gilded lies. That evening, she grew tired of watching.

She slipped behind the table, where a fierce game was underway. Opponents fell one after another, until only one girl remained, her eyes blazing with excitement. Accompanied by the raucous sound of Arctic Monkeys, the grueling duel unfolded. The girl, having caught her chance, went all in with the king and ace of hearts. Victory burned in her eyes.

Amelia just raised an eyebrow. “I support you,” her voice was calm.

She turned over her cards—two sixes. Nothing. But when the dealer dealt the community cards, two more sixes landed on the table. Four of a Kind. A perfect win.

Amelia rose, graceful as a lioness. Her fingers touched the debtor's chin. "How will you pay me back, my dear?" The voice was sweet poison.

The girl was silent. Amelia's look decided everything without words. — Probably in kind...

And she was already drawn into the foxtrot's whirlwind. Amelia was in complete control. Moving closer to her captive's ear, she whispered: "This city is my arena. Where the fire of dashed hopes has long since died out in the asphalt. Money, bullets, an airplane... I'm like Oswald Cobblepot. And drowning in champagne, everyone dances my foxtrot."

This wasn't boasting, but a statement of fact. She wasn't just leading the dance—she was orchestrating fate.