Chapter 1

The moment they shoved me out the window, I heard Kate laughing.

"Say goodbye to your life of the Vegas Gambling King, bro."

That was John Miller speaking. My best friend. And Kate, my wife of three years, stood right beside him. His hand was sliding over her waist. She was still holding that bottle of champagne she'd drugged me with.

Then they kissed. Slow. Triumphant. Hungry.

And I started falling.

From thirty floors.

The Vegas neon blurred into a fog of light and shadow, exactly like the glory I'd seen when I first arrived here. The wind roared in my ears. Ten minutes ago, I was still at the table. The man across from me pushed five million toward me and asked if I had the guts to match it.

I slid my stack forward with absolute confidence. "All in."

I flipped the cards. Perfect twenty-one. The crowd erupted. Confetti cannons fired. Golden paper rained from the ceiling. The Vegas celebrity Mr. Dawson raised my hand and thundered: "Vegas, welcome your new KING!"

Fifty million in prize money. Ten years of gambling with zero losses.

Then one glass of champagne. And everything went to zero.

I was betrayed by my best buddy and the woman I thought was my true love.

He forced me to sign the divorce papers, transferred my trillion-dollar fortune.

I reached for her but she pushed me off the tallest building in Vegas.

The new legendary gambling king of Las Vegas！falling on the very day of his coronation.

...

The Vegas neon still flickers. Just not for me anymore.

I curl in the depths of an alley reeking of rot, both hands twisted at grotesque angles.

Who am I? Where did I come from? My memories are like shredded playing cards scattered across the ground！impossible to piece together into anything whole.

Only hunger is real.

A soggy, half-eaten sandwich lands in front of me. I crawl toward it with everything I have. A filthy boot suddenly stomps on it. Sauce splatters across my face.

"Bad luck. Even trash wants to steal my food."

The boot kicks my shoulder. I tumble backward. My skull cracks against concrete. The second kick is coming！

"STOP! I'll call the police!"

The light at the alley entrance splits open. A middle-aged man, broad-shouldered and thick-backed. Beside him, a girl holds up her phone, the cold screen-glow illuminating her tight jawline.

The homeless man mutters and shuffles away.

The girl crouches down. Streetlight gilds her hair with warm gold. "Sir, are you okay?"

I stare at her blankly. Something churns in the depths of my memory！shattering wine glasses, the world spinning, a pushing palm, the weightlessness of falling！but I can't catch a single clear face.

"We can help you contact your family!"

"I don't know!" I curl into myself, trembling, hands over my head. "I don't know anyone! Please don't kill me... don't kill me..."

The girl and her father exchange glances.

"Dad... I think he has amnesia. And his hands!"

The middle-aged man lifts my deformed wrist, his brow furrowing deeply. "Both hands fractured. Without care, he won't last a few days."

A few days. So that's all my life is worth.

The girl reaches toward me. Palm up. "Sir, I'm Leah. My father Sam runs a small bar nearby. You can stay for a while. Maybe you'll remember something. Okay?"

I stare at that hand.

Hesitate for one heartbeat.

Then slowly, slowly, I take it.