1

Alfred's POV.

“Father, Mother, I’m home,” I said with a small laugh as I walked into the house. I looked for them in the living room, but they weren’t there, so I went to the backyard to check. That’s where I found them arguing loudly. I couldn’t even remember the last time I saw them fighting like this. My mother had never raised her voice at my father before.

I cleared my throat to get their attention. They both stopped and stared at me for a moment. Then my father ignored me and went back to rummaging through some papers in his suitcase. “Mom, what’s going on?” I asked.

“Son,” my mother said, clearly upset, “your father wants to sell our house! He’s being unreasonable! Please talk to him—I’m exhausted from trying to convince him to stop, but he won’t listen.” She looked at me with desperation in her eyes.

I stepped closer to my father and put a hand on his shoulder. He ignored me and kept searching for something in his suitcase. “Father, why are you doing this? Do you owe someone money? Are you in trouble? Tell me—I can help,” I said, trying to stay calm.

“Son, it’s not what you think,” my father replied, sitting down in a chair. He looked tired and troubled.

“Then explain it to me!” I said, kneeling in front of him. “I’m not a child anymore—I’m 20 years old. You can tell me the truth.”

He hesitated before finally speaking. “Son, last month, I started going for medical checkups. I found out I have heart problems. But don’t worry, I’m not dying anytime soon,” he said, scratching his neck nervously.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me? Does Mom know?” I asked, turning to look at her.

“Yes, I know,” my mother said quietly. My father continued, “I want to do this for you and your mother. I can’t leave you both to struggle after I’m gone. I need to make sure you’re taken care of.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t care about the money—I just didn’t want to lose him. But I still didn’t understand everything. “Father, if this is about money, let me help. We don’t have to sell the house. I can work two jobs. We can even move in with relatives or live in a small apartment—I don’t mind. I’ll sell my car too if I have to.”

My father shook his head. “No, son. I only need money for some inexpensive medicine. But I also have a business deal I want to pursue. If it works out, I could make $20 million overnight. Selling the house is the fastest way to get the $2 million I need to invest. I don’t want you working two jobs. I’m proud of you—you’re a good son. That’s why I’m doing this.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

My heart started to race as I tried to make sense of his words. “What kind of deal would make you $20 million overnight? That sounds way too risky,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. I couldn’t understand how my father, who had always been careful and thoughtful, could even consider doing something so dangerous.

This didn’t feel like him at all, and it made me uneasy. Deals like that sounded like something out of a movie, not real life.

My mother interrupted before he could respond, her voice sharp and filled with anger. She glared at him with a look I had rarely seen before. “Tell him what kind of deal it is!” she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. I could see the frustration and desperation in her eyes. She wasn’t just upset—she was scared.

I turned back to my father, waiting for him to explain. “What kind of deal are you talking about? Are you absolutely sure it’s not dangerous? What if you lose everything? The economy is unstable right now—it’s too risky to gamble with everything we have!” I said, my voice growing louder with each word. I couldn’t hide the concern in my tone. I needed him to understand that this plan didn’t make sense.

“I won’t lose,” my father said firmly, his voice steady and filled with confidence. “I’m confident in this deal. I’ve thought it through, and I’m doing this for you and your mother. I can’t fail.” He looked at me with determination, but his words didn’t comfort me. Instead, they made me even more nervous. How could he be so sure? No one could guarantee success, especially with something that sounded so risky.

Finally, my mother revealed the truth, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Your father is planning to gamble. He’s going to play poker at one of the biggest tables in the country. It’s an international game with high stakes. If he wins, he’ll make millions—more money than we could ever imagine. But if he loses,” she paused and took a deep breath, “we’ll lose everything and end up on the streets.” Her voice cracked as she finished, and I could see the pain in her eyes. She was terrified of what this decision could mean for us, and now I understood why.

Now I understood why my mother was so upset. My father’s plan wasn’t just risky—it was dangerous and reckless. If he weren’t my father, I would have been furious. But I respected him too much to yell or argue. Instead, I tried to reason with him. “Father, we don’t need all this money. We’re happy with what we have. Please reconsider this decision before it’s too late,” I said softly, trying to reach him. I hoped he would listen to me and change his mind, but deep inside, I wasn’t sure he would.

“I’ve made up my mind,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I won’t lose. Before I married your mother, I was the best gambler in the country. People knew my name at every major table. I even used that money to start my company. But after you were born, I gave it all up because your mother asked me to. Now, I’m going back to it—for you and for her.” His voice softened slightly at the end, but his determination was clear. He wasn’t going to back down, no matter what we said.

“And what if you lose everything?” I asked, my voice trembling as I repeated the question. I had already asked it once, but I needed him to really think about the consequences. What would happen if things didn’t go the way he planned? What would we do then? The thought of losing our home, our stability, and everything we had worked for was too much to bear.

“I won’t lose,” he said again, his tone unwavering. “I’ve spent the past year practicing. I’ve gone over every possible scenario in my head. I’m still the best at this game, and I know exactly what I’m doing. All I need is your support. Are you with me?” he asked, placing his hand gently on my cheek. His touch was warm, and I could see the hope in his eyes. He wanted me to believe in him, to trust that he could pull this off. But no matter how confident he seemed, I couldn’t shake the fear in my heart.

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Part of me wanted to beg him to stop, to tell him this wasn’t worth the risk. But another part of me couldn’t bring myself to say no. I loved him too much to stand in his way. After a long pause, I nodded slowly. “Yes, Father, I’ll support you. I’ll stand by you no matter what happens,” I said softly. “Let’s just hope you win.” I forced a smile, but deep down, I was scared. I couldn’t imagine losing him or my mother. They were everything to me, and the thought of something bad happening to them was unbearable. I would do anything to protect them, even if it meant supporting a decision I didn’t fully agree with.

“When is the game?” I asked, my voice quiet. I needed to know when this would all happen, even though part of me didn’t want to hear the answer. Knowing the exact time made it feel more real, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

“Tomorrow night,” he replied, his voice calm but serious. “Are you coming with me?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. His confidence hadn’t wavered, but I could sense a flicker of something else in his tone—was it excitement or fear? I couldn’t tell.

“Yes,” I said after a moment. “I’ll be there.” But no matter how much I tried to convince myself that everything would be fine, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Was my father afraid of losing? Or was there something else he wasn’t telling me?