Reborn To Ruin Her Rivals - Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Day three hit.
Arielle was out the door again, feeding Ethan the usual line—off to the mall.
He dropped her at the entrance and rolled off to park. "I'll be a bit," she called. "Go do your thing, no need to wait."
Once his car was out of sight, she ducked out the mall's back exit and hopped an Uber to Cloud Nine Casino.
She'd blown three hundred on a rented dress to look the part. Entry fee? Charged to a brand-new credit card.
She'd swung by the bank yesterday to get it—manager wasn't sold until he heard she was Henry's daughter. Then, bam, card in hand.
What else could she do? She was dirt poor.
Arielle had one plan: hit the casino and score big. Cash was everything, and without it, she was dead in the water—especially her revenge plans.
Getting Henry to fork over money was a lost cause, and she didn't have time to waste. With her skills, gambling was her best bet.
Since returning to the Bradford family, she'd been holed up, practicing cards like her life depended on it. Today was go-time.
Cloud Nine was where the high rollers hung out. Every word in there screamed money. She was totally hyped.
Dark clouds loomed overhead. The streets were buzzing, a stark contrast to the daytime calm.
The casino's entrance sparkled like a Vegas show. Sleek cars pulled up, their mega-rich owners slipping through a VIP entrance.
Arielle? No fancy ride. She strolled through the main doors.
After checking in, a waiter led her to a private booth and ran through the rules.
Everyone got a number—chip number, ball number, whatever one called it. It was their game ID.
"Well, don't forget your number," the waiter said, jotting her info down. He gave a quick nod and bounced.
The VIP boxes were a whole different beast from the chaotic main floor.
Down below, every table was jam-packed with folks buzzing with energy. Some had crossed oceans just to feel the rush of the bets.
The casino's vibe—blinding lights, thumping music, bold colors, and slick decor—was crafted to suck one in.
In a place like this, one could easily get lost in their your own head, feeling like they'd stumbled into some exclusive, shadowy world.
The air was electric, with rowdy gamblers shouting, tossing chips, and diving headfirst into the madness. It was like the whole room was high on the thrill.
Arielle checked her watch. Game time was close. The big showdown was about to kick off.
Right on cue, the massive LED screen in the center flared to life, lighting up the stage.
Spotlights zeroed in on a sharp-dressed guy in a suit, arm-in-arm with a stunning woman.
Her voice was smooth as velvet."Welcome, everyone, to the Cloud Nine Showdown. I'm Sierra."
"Hey, what's good, bosses? I'm Desmond," the guy said, throwing a quick wave.
They launched into the rules of the game. Regulars already knew the drill, and some of the crowd started whistling and yelling to hurry it up.
This was the kind of place where they could score power, cash, or even a pretty face if that's what they were after.
High rollers came for the rush. Desperate folks dreamed of hitting it big overnight. Everyone had their own angle.
Some walked away millionaires. Others? They didn't walk away at all. This game was not for the faint of heart.
Up in the VIP boxes, one could peek through the curtains and see the action, but the floor couldn't see them.
Each box got a list of tonight's players—names or fake ones—for those ready to bet big.
Only thirty made the cut per game. Anyone extra got kicked off the list, no questions asked.
Arielle flipped open the booklet the waiter handed her, scanning the names. One stood out like a sore thumb.
She headed to the second floor, settling into her spot.
A few minutes later, Sierra and Desmond took the stage again, hyping the crowd. The stage lights hit the screen.
"Tonight, we've got fifty VIPs in the house," Sierra purred. "Twenty backed out, so we're down to thirty players, each with a number."
"Found someone you wanna bet against yet?"Desmond chimed in. "Lists are in your hands, folks. Let's see who's first to take the stage tonight!"
The giant screen spun. Every eye in the place was glued to it, waiting to see who'd be the first to hit the stage—lucky or not.
Click. The screen stopped on a number.
"Number 22!" Loud music blasted through the place, cranking up the energy.
Guest number 22, a young dude, stood up in the spotlight, looking sharp as hell.
Sierra flashed a killer smile. "Our first winner's a total stud—let's hear it for Mr. Theodore Hobbs!"
Everyone knew him—the golden boy of the Hobbs family.
Murmurs spread like wildfire. They wondered why a hotshot like Theodore was at a gambling den like this. The Hobbs family wasn't exactly strapped for cash.
Nearby, two guys whispered to each other.
"Heard the Hobbs family's hitting a rough patch with money."
"No shit? So he's at Cloud Nine sniffing around for a big shot to save his ass?"
Theodore didn't blink at the gossip. He strolled to the gambling table, cool as a cucumber.
He sat down, eyes sweeping the room like he ran the show.
The crowd held its breath, waiting for Sierra to name his opponent.
"Mr. Hobbs," she said, voice smooth as butter, "you're our first lucky guy. Pick who you're facing off with. Or, if you're chickening out, you can ditch for 300 thousand bucks."
That was Cloud Nine's rule: one shot to bail, but it'd cost 300 thousand.
Plus, just to play, one had to drop 30 grand upfront. Arielle'd swiped her credit card for that.
Theodore sat there, looking a bit nervous, staying quiet like he was mulling something big.
Sierra gave him a second, then leaned in. "So, Mr. Hobbs, who's your pick?"
"Number 8," he said firmly, his gaze locking onto someone in the VIP seats.
Heads turned toward the number 8 section. Arielle followed their stares.
There stood a guy in a slick suit, looking like he'd stepped out of a magazine. High cheekbones, a cocky smirk that screamed trouble.
From his expression, he clearly hadn't expected Theodore to call him out.
It was him. Lucas Walter, from the Walter family.
He wasn't from Theoria City, but his business was all over town. Arielle had seen him once, a year before she got locked up, cutting a deal with Gavin.
Just that one time, but his face stuck with her. He looked steady, but the guy was wild—nothing like his polished exterior.
Lucas stood, a little annoyed but keeping it smooth. He'd just come to chill, maybe watch a few rounds before bailing. Gambling wasn't on his to-do list.
He sauntered to the table, smoothing his sharp suit. Leaning on the edge, he shot Theodore a sly grin.
"Well, Mr. Hobbs, guess I owe you for pulling me into this mess," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Something about his words felt off.