Chapter 3 — The Impossible Winning Streak
# CHIPS OF DECEPTION
## Chapter 3 — The Impossible Winning Streak
The casino fell into chaos.
Emergency lights flooded the gaming floor with flashing red illumination as alarms echoed through the Imperial Crown Casino.
Guests screamed.
Poker chips scattered across marble floors.
Security officers rushed toward every exit.
Marcus Reed grabbed his radio.
"Lock every entrance."
"No one leaves the building."
Jason immediately drew closer to Isabella.
"Stay behind me."
Instead...
Isabella stepped away.
She looked toward the dark end of the casino floor.
Toward the voice that had spoken over the loudspeakers.
Her lips moved silently.
"He came..."
Marcus heard her.
"So you do know him."
She didn't answer.
---
Within seconds...
Backup generators restored power.
The luxurious casino returned to light.
Crystal chandeliers sparkled once more.
But something had changed.
Every VIP guest had disappeared from the poker room.
Only abandoned drinks and scattered chips remained.
Marcus frowned.
"Where did everyone go?"
Jason looked equally confused.
"They couldn't have evacuated that fast."
Then a security officer ran inside.
"Sir!"
Marcus turned.
"The surveillance system has been hacked."
"What?"
"We've lost twenty-three cameras."
Marcus immediately headed toward the surveillance center.
"Jason."
"Stay with Miss Monroe."
Jason nodded.
"I won't let her out of my sight."
---
The surveillance room looked like a war zone.
Technicians worked frantically.
Multiple monitors displayed nothing but black screens.
Others replayed corrupted footage.
Marcus approached the chief technician.
"What happened?"
The man swallowed nervously.
"Someone uploaded malicious software directly into our internal network."
Marcus stared.
"From outside?"
The technician shook his head.
"No."
"They accessed it from inside the casino."
Marcus's expression darkened.
"So whoever did this..."
"...is still here."
---
Jason escorted Isabella into a private security office.
She sat quietly.
Her winnings remained locked inside secure casino vaults.
For several minutes...
Neither of them spoke.
Finally Jason broke the silence.
"Who was the man?"
She looked at him.
"I don't know his name."
"But I've seen him before."
Jason leaned forward.
"Where?"
"Monte Carlo."
He blinked.
"What?"
"Three years ago."
She stared at the floor.
"I won another tournament."
"When I left..."
"I saw him watching me."
"What happened?"
"He disappeared."
Jason frowned.
"That's it?"
She nodded.
"I saw him again in Macau."
"Then in London."
"And now..."
"Las Vegas."
Jason slowly realized something.
"He isn't following casinos."
"He's following you."
She closed her eyes.
"Yes."
---
Meanwhile...
Marcus reviewed Isabella's gambling history.
The casino database connected with international gaming records.
The report slowly printed.
Jason arrived just as Marcus finished reading.
"You need to see this."
Marcus handed him the file.
Isabella Monroe.
Professional poker player.
Tournament winnings over twelve million dollars.
No criminal history.
No accusations of cheating.
No lawsuits.
No financial fraud.
Nothing.
Jason looked confused.
"She's clean."
Marcus nodded.
"Too clean."
---
He turned another page.
Every major victory followed an identical pattern.
Monte Carlo.
London.
Macau.
Singapore.
Las Vegas.
Each time...
Someone connected to the tournament disappeared within forty-eight hours.
Not Isabella.
Other people.
Dealers.
Casino accountants.
Security managers.
Even one tournament director.
Jason stared.
"You think she killed them?"
Marcus slowly shook his head.
"No."
"I think someone kills people..."
"...every time she wins."
Silence filled the room.
---
At that exact moment...
Detective Sarah Lawson entered carrying a thick evidence folder.
"I've identified something."
Marcus looked up.
"The dead dealer?"
Sarah nodded.
"Michael Harris wasn't random."
She placed several photographs on the table.
"They were all friends."
Marcus studied them.
Michael Harris.
Another dealer from London.
A casino host from Macau.
A surveillance technician from Monte Carlo.
Every victim appeared together in old convention photographs.
Jason frowned.
"They all worked casinos."
Sarah nodded.
"They attended the same international gaming security conference six years ago."
Marcus looked up.
"So somebody is eliminating everyone connected to that conference."
Sarah replied quietly.
"It looks that way."
---
Across the hall...
Isabella sat alone.
She heard muffled voices outside the office.
She reached into her evening purse.
Removed a small folded photograph.
An old picture.
She and her father stood together beside a poker table.
He was smiling.
On the back...
One sentence had been written in faded blue ink.
**Trust no casino.**
Her father had written it.
The day before he disappeared.
Not died.
Disappeared.
Nobody had ever found his body.
---
Suddenly...
Someone knocked.
Jason entered.
"You've been playing poker professionally for seven years."
She nodded.
"Yes."
"You've played on three continents."
"Yes."
"And every time you win big..."
"Someone dies."
She slowly looked up.
"I know."
Jason froze.
"You knew?"
She nodded sadly.
"It took me years to notice."
His voice became sharper.
"Then why keep playing?"
Her answer surprised him.
"Because they're watching the winners."
Jason frowned.
"They?"
She looked directly into his eyes.
"The people who took my father."
---
Before Jason could ask another question...
Marcus burst into the room.
"We found something."
He placed a photograph on the desk.
The mysterious man in the white dinner jacket.
Taken from another casino.
Monte Carlo.
Three years earlier.
Jason immediately looked toward Isabella.
She had gone completely pale.
Marcus noticed.
"You recognize him."
She whispered,
"His name..."
"...is Adrian Cross."
Marcus wrote it down.
"Who is he?"
She answered quietly.
"I don't know."
"But wherever Adrian Cross appears..."
"Someone dies."
---
Detective Lawson interrupted.
"We ran the name."
"No passport."
"No birth certificate."
"No military record."
"No tax history."
"No fingerprints."
Marcus sighed.
"So Adrian Cross doesn't exist either."
Sarah nodded.
"Exactly."
---
One of the surveillance technicians suddenly rushed inside.
His breathing was uneven.
"Sir..."
Marcus looked up.
"What now?"
"We found another body."
The room became silent.
"Where?"
"Inside the casino."
Everyone froze.
---
Minutes later...
They arrived at a private dealers' lounge hidden behind the main gaming floor.
A young dealer lay motionless beside a locker.
His name badge read:
**Eric Dalton.**
Only twenty-six years old.
Sarah knelt beside the body.
"No pulse."
Marcus noticed something immediately.
There was no visible wound.
Just like Michael Harris.
Professional.
Silent.
Efficient.
Jason slowly searched the room.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
No weapon.
No struggle.
Nothing...
Except one open locker.
Inside...
Sat a black leather briefcase.
Marcus carefully opened it.
The case contained dozens of personnel files.
Every employee who had attended the international security conference.
Across every file...
Someone had drawn a large red X.
Every file...
Except one.
Marcus slowly removed the final folder.
The name printed across the cover made his blood run cold.
**MARCUS REED**
Someone had highlighted his photograph.
Below it...
A handwritten note read:
**"You're next."**
The room fell completely silent.
For the first time in twenty-five years...
Marcus Reed realized...
He wasn't hunting the killer anymore.
The killer...
Had been hunting him all along.
**End of Chapter 3**
