Betrayed by My Wife，I Turned Her Death Bet Into Her Ruin

2 I stared at the woman I had once cherished with everything I had, and a wave of bitter self-mockery washed through me. This was the woman I'd loved with my life. She had turned herself into a blade and driven it straight through my heart. "Oh my, would you look at that! Kerry's eyes are turning red—he must really love you, May!" "Ha! Too bad his precious May threw him away ages ago. And now she's the one who set him up." Mark's mocking laughter rang out, and then he splashed his wine directly into my face. "Pathetic. Back then, I drank a few extra glasses of your wine, and you tried to kill me for it." He leaned closer, sneering. "Now look at you—a dead fish strapped to a board, waiting to be gutted." May watched me, amusement dancing in her eyes as she took in my humiliated, wine-soaked face. "Why are you looking at us like that? We're simply giving you a taste of your own medicine." She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "I'd say I'm being generous, really. I didn't break your legs. I'm giving you a chance to win your way out." The moment she said it, the shareholders who had betrayed me—along with every gambler in the room—erupted into laughter. "Win his way out? Him?" someone howled. "Ms. Harding brought in the new God of Gamblers just to face him!" "That man has never lost. And Kerry's just a businessman—what chance does he have?" "Ms. Harding's cruel, isn't she? Dangling hope in front of him, then snatching it away." Only then did I understand. Her so-called mercy—letting me gamble for freedom—was a poisoned blade from the start. She had already calculated that I would lose. That my mother would be stripped naked and thrown out like garbage. She had seized my company, left me with nothing, and ensured I had no one to turn to for help. Rage surged through me. I thrashed against my restraints, my voice tearing from my throat: "May! Ask yourself—ask your conscience—how did I ever treat you?!" She let out a cold, derisive laugh. "Treat me? Oh, you treated me wonderfully." Her smile sharpened. "But what does that have to do with anything? I never asked you to love me. You're old now, Kerry. Your body can't compare to a younger man's." She shrugged elegantly. "What, did you expect me to live like a widow for the rest of my life?" Her words—so casual, so utterly heartless—made my fists clench until my knuckles went white. I forced the unprecedented fury down, burying it deep. Then the door swung open. A man strode in, his gaze sweeping over me with leisurely contempt. After a long, deliberate pause, he scoffed. "Tch. Ms. Harding must think highly of you, getting me to play against a nobody like you." "It's him! The new God of Gamblers!" "Kerry Gilbert's finished." May didn't bother standing. She simply watched me, thoroughly entertained. "Kerry, I'll say it one more time. If you want you and your mother to leave here safely—beat him." The room exploded. Some laughed at the impossibility of me defeating a gambling legend. Others hurled insults—calling me a spineless cuckold, tied up and humiliated while my wife cuckolded me. Through the jeering and the filth, I turned to look at my mother. Tears streamed down her face. "Mom." My voice was hoarse but steady. "Don't worry. We're walking out of here. Together." The words had barely left my mouth when the man guarding her received a nod from Mark. He reached out and tore her outer garment away. "Well, well! The old lady's still got it!" "Look at that skin—smooth as silk. Could pass for twenty, I'd say." "I'm placing my bet right now. They say experienced women have the most... enthusiasm." "Ha! Count me in—betting on the God of Gamblers. When he wins, that woman's ours." The vile, degrading words slithered into my ears. My mother's face crumpled—I saw her trying to bite down, trying to end it herself—but the man yanked her back, pinning her arms. Every drop of color drained from my face. There was nothing left to say. Begging May was pointless.

"Alright, let the game begin." "Kerry, don't say I didn't give you a fighting chance—we'll play stud poker, your specialty." As if I had any other choice. The power was entirely in May's hands. I was bound to the card table, with only one hand freed to hold my cards. "Gentlemen, once this piece of trash loses, feel free to have your fun with his dear mother. I'll even throw in cash for drinks." "Hell yeah!" The room erupted into cheers again, every man leering at my mother like starving wolves circling wounded prey. Mark sat beside the card shark, watching me with naked provocation in his eyes. "Kerry, here are the rules: every hand you lose, we strip one piece of clothing off your mother." "Haha! And if you don't—" "Can we start?" I refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. I knew exactly what Mark was doing. He wanted to toy with me, to shatter my nerves piece by piece, to drown me in fear and despair until I broke. But reality left no room for dwelling. The dealer had already approached to deal the cards. Every man in the room rushed to place bets—all of them on Mark's side. May swirled the red wine in her glass, watching the scene unfold with the calm certainty of someone who'd already won. After the deal, I lifted my hand and checked my cards, flipping up the seven of hearts as my face card. My hole card would be my lifeline. The shark's face card was the king of spades. He looked at me with undisguised contempt. "Kerry, you'd better watch yourself." The crowd craned their necks to see, laughing and clapping. "I've got the high card. I'll call it—betting the second piece of clothing off that old hag." I had no choice but to match. But May objected. For a split second, I thought she'd had a change of heart. I was wrong. "You don't have any stakes to gamble with! Sure, the company's mine now, but all that money you've squirreled away over the years isn't in my hands." "So you'll have to put it up as collateral. No money to call? Then I suppose we'll just have to tear—" She let the threat hang, her smile razor-thin. My fists clenched until my knuckles went white. Clever. So goddamn clever. Using my mother as a chip while forcing me to bet everything I had. "I call." "Hahaha! Like he's got a cent left to his name!" I gave my bank account number directly to one of the staff to verify. Only after they confirmed my funds would they allow me to continue. The dealer proceeded to the next round. I drew the seven of spades. The shark drew the six of clubs. "High card's mine. I bet my mother's safety." Mark sneered, utterly dismissive—as if no matter what I did, the outcome was already written. The next card came. Mine was the ace of hearts. The shark's was the ace of spades. Mark pushed half of the chips forward with a grin. "Half your entire fortune. You don't get a choice." "Hahaha! Call or don't—either way, you're screwed!" I looked at my mother. Tears streamed down her face as she choked out the words: "Son, just go! Don't do this for me—" "Mom, it's okay." I turned back to face them and called. Fourth street. I drew the seven of clubs. The shark drew the ace of diamonds. Mark lit a cigarette and took a slow drag, the ember glowing. "Kerry, you still dare to call?" I stared at my pair of sevens, trusting my hole card to carry me through. "Call." "Show them." I refused to believe they had three aces. I was willing to gamble everything. But when the hole cards flipped—my three sevens crumbled against their three aces. I slumped back against the chair, fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms.

The crowd erupted in cheers. If I won, they'd get the money—and the chance to violate my mother. "Ha! Told you Kerry would lose. A worthless piece of trash like him against the God of Gamblers? Please." "Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic." Mark blew cigarette smoke directly into my face, his arrogance suffocating. "Kerry, how could you lose? Your mother's still in that cage, waiting for you to save her!" I lifted my head, eyes bloodshot, glaring at them. The dealer's final card had been rigged—I'd seen the God of Gamblers make his move, but what could I do about it? No one here would believe me. They were all praying for my complete destruction. Before I could think further, a sharp ripping sound cut through the air. My heart seized as I whipped around. Someone had torn a piece of clothing from my mother's body. "No! Get away from me! Get away!" She thrashed and fought with everything she had, but she was no match for them. The men in the room went wild. "Would you look at that! Told you this woman had a nice body!" "She doesn't look forty at all! Haha! " The more she screamed, the more excited they became. I fixed my bloodshot glare on May. She just shrugged, utterly indifferent. "Why are you looking at me like that? This is your fault." "If you weren't such a useless waste, she wouldn't be getting manhandled right now." "Oh, but just so you know—" She smiled. "One more piece, and we'll see her underwear." "Hahaha!" She sauntered over and draped herself around Mark's waist. "Feeling better now, sweetie?" "Not yet." His eyes glinted. "She hasn't been stripped naked and thrown into the pile of men. And Kerry hasn't lost everything yet." May reached up and playfully pinched his nose. "You're so naughty." "Then let's finish this. I want to watch you enjoy every second." Meanwhile, agony clawed through my skull. They were right to mock me. Pitting someone who knew nothing about gambling against a man who never lost? It was like throwing an egg at a boulder. In the next round, Mark bet on my mother's skirt. I was forced to wager everything I had left. When the cards were revealed, I lost again. My soul left my body. I slumped back in the chair, drowning in despair. They ripped off her skirt. They laughed and flipped me off. "Kerry, you're more pathetic than a dog." "You've got nothing left to bet with, and your mother's down to her last piece of clothing. What are you going to do now?" Mark stood up, grinning, and broke into some ridiculous victory dance of his own invention. The other men reached into the cage, their hands roaming over my mother's skin. "Stop it! Stop it now!" "Aaah! Get away! Son, save me!" "Please... please..." Her desperate pleas. My roaring fury. None of it moved May an inch. "The final round is about to begin!" "Kerry, if you don't have anything left to bet—then we'll just declare your mother officially—" "Who says I don't." The words tore from my throat. "I'll bet my life against yours." "Mark." My voice dropped to something cold and dead. "Do you have the guts to wager your hand and your other leg?" The room exploded with excitement. "Oh, this is good. They're betting their lives now!" Mark didn't hesitate. "Betting your life? Perfect. I've been dying to break your legs myself." "And," I continued, "all of May's assets. How about it?" "Ha! You think I'm scared of a loser like you? Don't make me laugh—let's do this!" Without another word, we signed the life-or-death wager and signaled the dealer to start. My face-up card was the eight of spades. I didn't look at my hole card. Mark got the nine of diamonds. They sneered, not bothering to raise—convinced I had nothing worth chasing. After all, this round was all or nothing. The dealer continued. My second card: five of clubs. His: eight of hearts. Third card dealt. Mine: four of clubs. Mark's: seven of hearts. At this trajectory, we were both building toward a straight flush. It all came down to who completed it—and whose was higher. When the final card dropped, every neck in the room craned toward our table. The crowd held its breath, eyes locked on us. Mine: seven of clubs. Mark's: five of hearts. "Damn, this is gonna be close." "Close? Please. Kerry's already lost." Mark drummed his fingers on the table, radiating smug confidence. "Kerry." His voice dripped with triumph. "This hand decides everything." "But don't worry—I won't let you die quickly. I'm going to make you watch while men take turns with your mother. Ha! Ha! Ha!" "Flip the cards!" "Mine's the six of hearts. Beats yours. Kerry, you're finished." The moment Mark flipped his hole card, screams erupted across the room. "What the—that's not the six of hearts—!"