Joel leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as the manager continued trying to appease him.
"I assure you, Mr. Nardino, this is an isolated incident. This dealer's actions do not reflect the standards of our establishment. We will see to it that he is thoroughly investigated and removed from the floor immediately. Please enjoy the rest of your evening… on the house, of course."
Joel gave a half-nod, his smirk lingering. "Yeah, you better. I didn't come here to be scammed like some wide-eyed tourist."
The dealer slowly picked himself up from the floor, ignoring the wig that now hung awkwardly in his hand. He didn't bother trying to put it back on, there was no salvaging his pride at this point.
Joel watched him carefully.
The man was hunched over slightly, his eyes fixed to the floor, his face a portrait of embarrassment. He looked like someone trying to disappear into the tiles.
Joel stepped closer, his voice low but cutting deep. "You think you're walking away from this like nothing happened? You're done. Not just here. Any casino, any club, even the damn front desk of a bingo hall, you're done."
The dealer's jaw clenched. His eyes slowly lifted and locked onto Joel's. For just a second, his expression twisted into rage, shame, something darker simmered in that glare.
But then it vanished quickly. He dropped his gaze again, defeated.
Joel didn't flinch.
"Yeah," he muttered, turning back to the table. "that's what I thought."
He picked up his martini, that was surprisingly untouched through the chaos, and took a calm sip, the fire in his chest now cooled, replaced by quiet satisfaction.
Sipping his drink, Joel let the burn of the alcohol settle in his throat, the sharp taste grounding him.
He glanced back toward the dealer, the man still standing there, hairless and humiliated.
But something tugged at Joel's brain, a flicker of recognition he can't recall. His eyes narrowed, and for the first time, he actually looked at the guy's face.
That shiny tip of baldness.
The jawline.
The slope of the nose.
"Where have I seen that mug before?" he muttered to himself, eyes narrowing as he studied the dealer's face more closely.
And then after a few seconds of staring, like lightning through fog, it finally hit him.
His eyes widened, but only for a second before closing his eyes for a moment. Enough for his stomach to churn with realization. "No way... That's him."
He quickly masked his expression with another scoff, taking a step closer to the dealer to take another close look, trying to confirm his suspicions.
He kept his tone smug and condescending, "You know, I hope you enjoyed your last night dealing cards. Might as well start packing your things, if they even let you touch chips again."
His voice was sharp, but his thoughts were spiraling.
That's definitely Cyrus Vane.
The guy. The one Nova wants.
The reason we're even down here in the first place.
Joel kept up the act, berating the man while his brain scrambled for the next move.
It was a lucky hit. A damn miracle in the unlikeliest place. And now that he had found him, he couldn't afford to let this slip.
His words continued, but now every glance he gave the man had purpose. Every insult was a shield to mask his intentions.
Joel was watching him carefully, calculating how to keep him in place without alerting anyone.
Cyrus Vane. Right under his nose.
Joel leaned on the counter, letting his smirk return.
"I really am lucky at blackjack… hehehe"
…..
Joel's fingers tapped against the glass, his mind already working three steps ahead.
"I've got him. Now don't screw it up." Mumbling to himself over and over again.
He turned to the manager, his tone sharp but feigning restraint. "Look, I don't like causing a scene in public, alright? Let's talk somewhere more... private. I don't want this casino's reputation to tank because of one rotten dealer."
The manager, still eager to appease the very rich and very pissed customer, nodded quickly. "Of course, sir. We have a guest office in the back. Please, follow me."
Joel shot one last look at the dealer, Cyrus Vane, who stood quietly, his eyes low and shame painted on his face like a second skin.
Now that he was seeing him clearly, his plan of hiding in plain sight was rather lack luster.
As they walked through the lavish hallway toward the manager's office, Joel subtly pulled out his phone and sent a single message to Nova and the crew.
"Get here. Back office. It's him."
Inside the room, the atmosphere changed. The lighting was softer, the walls lined with bookshelves and fake certificates of excellence.
Joel walked in first and sat down with crossed legs, gesturing toward the dealer with a lazy wave. "Alright, let's hear it again. Tell me exactly what kind of circus this casino's running, and why your dealer thinks it's okay to rig games in front of high-paying guests."
The manager sighed, nodding politely as he turned to the dealer with a frown. "We will take this seriously, I assure you."
Joel leaned back, eyes flicking between the two, masking his excitement behind his usual cocky grin. "I want to hear it from him. Let's see if he lies again."
Cyrus didn't speak. The manager was urging him to apologize, but it was no use. Like he had just accepted the humiliation and just wanted to get it over with fast.
But Joel was not going to let it slide, his intention was to just keep him here in the first place. And Nova would be here any second.
So, he kept the act up, lobbing accusations and jabs, dragging the moment out. Long enough for the real game to begin.
When Nova opened the door to the office, the first thing that hit him wasn't the scent of cigars or leather chairs, it was Joel's voice, mid-scream.
"…and if this is what you call professional service, then maybe this whole damn place should be shut down!"
Joel stood, pointing an accusatory finger at the cowering dealer in the corner, voice booming through the room like a stage actor delivering his final monologue.
The manager was sweating buckets, trying to mediate, while the so-called dealer looked like he wanted to melt into the walls.
The moment Joel heard the door creak open and saw Nova step in with the others, his theatrics came to an abrupt halt.
He dropped his fury like a coat and casually turned to them, his voice calm and annoyingly smug.
"Took you long enough," he said, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve.
He jabbed his thumb toward the dealer slumped in the corner, fiddling helplessly with a crooked, half-detached wig.
"I found him."
Cyrus Vane didn't look up. He was too busy adjusting the ridiculous piece of synthetic hair that no longer matched the shape of his skull.
The room fell into silence for a second, just enough for everyone to register the situation.
Then Nova's eyes narrowed, a crooked grin forming.
"Well," he said, stepping forward, "isn't this just perfect?"