Part 2Gambling My Destiny With My Baby

For the second round, the stakes were my Rolls-Royce.

Freda shook the cup with practiced ease, letting it drop and lifting it to reveal two sixes and a five. Seventeen.

The cheering from the peanut gallery was instantaneous. Tammy squealed, "See that? Even God is on Freda's side!"

Beatrice spat a mint wrapper onto the floor. "Look at her luck, then look at yours. Useless."

I picked up the cup in silence. The voice returned.

Mama, tilt your wrist half an inch to the left. Keep losing.

I followed the instruction exactly. The dice rolled out: two twos and a three. Seven.

For the third round, we played for my thirty percent share in the family company.

Freda rolled a sixteen. I rolled a miserable five.

Three consecutive losses.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed hummily, casting a sickly glow over the corridor. The red "In Surgery" light above the ICU doors continued to blink ominously.

Zach smiled with absolute triumph, pushing the remaining stack of transfer documents toward me. "Dale, even the universe has abandoned you. How did you think you could ever beat Freda? Sign the papers. Don't ruin Freda's lucky hour."

My fingers shook so violently I could barely hold the pen. Tears spilled over my eyelashes, leaving dark, wet circles on the crisp white paper.

Beatrice leaned over, pointing a finger at my face. "Stop crying, you bad omen! Just sign the damn papers!"

"Exactly," Tammy chimed in. "You played the game. Your mother is waiting in there; she doesn't have time for your tears."

I bit my lip until I tasted blood, forcing myself to press my thumbprint onto each document in dark red ink. I looked like a broken, desperate woman, sweating and frantic.

Only I knew it was an act.

Inside my mind, the baby’s voice was as steady as a mountain.

Good job, Mama. Hang in there. He's holding Grandmother's surgical consent form. If we fight him now, he’ll pull the plug. We have to make this a legally binding game, letting him stick his own neck into the noose we've built.

I took a deep breath, pushing the signed papers back across the table.

Zach picked them up, flicking the edges with a satisfied smirk before handing them to a bodyguard.

Just then, his phone lit up on the corner of the table. A text preview popped up: Mr. King, the rent on your luxury apartment in the Hamptons is past due. Please remit payment immediately...

I caught the message out of the corner of my eye and quickly looked away, pretending I hadn't seen a thing.

Zach hastily flipped his phone face down, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. He forced a smile, adjusting his cuffs. "Alright. The first three rounds are settled." He stood up, looking down at me. "Now, Dale, there's only one round left."

"We play for your health and your life force."

"If you win, I sign your mother's consent form immediately."

"If you lose, you leave this marriage with nothing, and you spend the rest of your life as Freda's personal human battery."

I stared at the red ink on my fingers, my nails digging into my palms. "Aren't you afraid of karma?" My voice was so raspy it was barely a whisper.

Zach threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing off the sterile walls. "Karma? In this family, I am the law!" He leaned down, placing both hands flat on the table, bringing his face inches from mine. "Dale, if you're scared, get down on your knees and beg. Maybe I'll be merciful enough to let you see your mother's corpse one last time."

Freda slid her arm through his, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Dale, you have nothing left to lose anyway. This is the final round. Are you in, or are you out?"