Ruslan cmh

Moscow is a city of contrasts, where excitement and downfall hide behind a facade of simplicity. Ruslan Tushentsov, a successful businessman, once stepped into a new underground casino masquerading as an ordinary bar. Behind an inconspicuous door, he discovered an exclusive club for the elite, where huge sums of money, status, and risk circulated. There, amidst expensive drinks and beautiful women, Ruslan noticed Arzu on his first evening—a waitress whose manners and gaze caught his attention immediately. At first, she remained reserved; then she realized that this generous guest was a chance to find a patron. Every time she appeared at his table became a test for him. She played it subtle: when he lost, her attention receded; when he won, she was right there, softly nudging him to make risky bets. Ruslan tossed and turned in this cycle, losing and gaining fortunes, until one day he hit a colossal jackpot. Even Arzu, accustomed to any surprise, was genuinely surprised; it was important to her that the money spent on her. His generosity bought her luxurious dresses; their connection became a profitable symbiosis: she was the talisman, he was the wallet. Over time, Arzu decided to pull a scam—to take everything. One evening, she quietly sat beside him, whispering: "Want to win all the cash? I have an informant with the croupier. Just watch and do as I do." Ruslan, blinded by her attention, withdrew all the money from his accounts. She winked, led him to the table holding his hand, and whispered about the jackpot. Influential people settled into the hall; the croupier spun the roulette wheel. Arzu smiled, glanced briefly at his shining eyes, and realized: everything was going according to plan. Ruslan bet all his money on zero. The ball rattled, slowed down—and landed on red 12. The bet was gone. Ruslan turned pale, clenched his jaw—his gaze turned into fury. He spun around sharply—Arzu's chair was empty. The money she had been holding for luck had vanished along with her. The machines hummed in the hall; the croupier looked away. The scam had worked. Ruslan sat alone, clutching an empty glass. It hit him: he hadn't just been played—he had been betrayed. But above all, he thought of her: her voice, her touch, her promises. It had been a cleverly planned game.