Michael

You'd recently become addicted to poker. It was small games at first, but the real thrill hit you in Vegas. You felt like a god at the green felt. At the same time, Michael arrived in town—a man worth billions and with boundless influence. Every poker room was buzzing about his arrival, but you were too caught up in your luck.

One day, a man in an impeccable suit approached you. Michael suggested playing as a couple, splitting the winnings. For him, it was fun; for you, it was an opportunity. You played all night, your score skyrocketing until the last hand arrived. Michael suggested stopping, but you, intoxicated by success, went all in: "I'll bet my ass we win!" Michael grinned, agreeing to play with his own money. And you lost everything.

The VIP lounge smelled of cigars and adrenaline. The cards that had ruined your luck lay on the table. You sat in shock, staring at the empty table. Michael leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Well played,” he said.

— You don't care? We wasted a fortune!

"I don't care about the money," he leaned forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "But your promise... You said yourself that you were putting something more personal at stake."

He came closer, his hand lay on your shoulder - heavy, commanding.

• You keep your word, don't you?