Chapter 5
The Strip never sleeps, but tonight, there is a different kind of tension in the air. News circulates in low whispers through high-limit rooms, exchanged between executives in knowing glances. A lawsuit. A high-profile one. The kind that makes the industry uneasy.
Alessia Cruz reads the headline again, her manicured nails tapping against her phone screen.
Widow Sues Luxury Strip Resort After Husband’s Death Linked to Escort’s Fentanyl Scheme
She exhales slowly, setting her phone down on the polished bar of the VIP lounge. The details are brutal. A wealthy businessman, drunk but coherent, picks up a woman at the hotel bar. Nine minutes. That is all it took. Security footage shows her slipping out of his room alone. By morning, he is dead. Fentanyl. Another overdose in a city that tries not to keep count. But this time, the widow is not just grieving, she’s suing.
The casino is on edge. They have always walked a delicate line, tolerating the presence of high-end escorts for the sake of their whales, but this is different. This is not quiet, and it will not go away overnight.
Alessia’s Power Move
Alessia glances across the room at Savannah Carter, who is nursing a vodka soda at a high-limit bar. She looks composed, but Alessia knows better. The weight of the past twenty-four hours lingers in the set of her shoulders.
Savannah made a mistake. A costly one. She got too close to a client who thought he owned her. When she tried to back away, things got messy. Too public. Security intervened before it escalated further, but the casino was watching. Mistakes like this have consequences.
Alessia made a call. One call. That was all it took to smooth things over. But the man she called is not the kind you owe lightly. The terms are unspoken but understood. This is how Vegas works. You help someone today, and tomorrow, they own a piece of you.
Savannah doesn’t know what it cost Alessia to fix this. And Alessia doesn’t plan on telling her.
Ethan on the Brink
Ethan Blake finally understands the danger he is in. The realization settles in like a sickness in his stomach as he sits across from a man in the dimly lit corner of a lounge. The debt collector does not raise his voice, does not need to. The words land heavy regardless.
Ethan, you have one week. If you do not come up with the cash, we will take it another way. And I promise, you will not like that way.
Ethan nods, his throat dry. He is not stupid enough to ask what the other way is. Nix is nowhere to be found, the money is gone, and Ethan is out of options. The high of the chase, the thrill of the gamble, it all feels distant now. A hollow echo of a bad decision he cannot undo.
He stands too quickly, nods at the man, and walks out into the neon haze of the Strip. But no matter where he goes, the weight of the words follows.
Roman’s Crossroads
Roman DeLuca feels the shift too. He leans against the railing of his nightclub’s VIP section, scanning the crowd below. The usual suspects – athletes, brokers, influencers – are still here, but the unspoken rules of the game are changing. The lawsuit could set a precedent. The casino execs are nervous, and nervous casinos make for unpredictable nights.
Dante Rossi has been circling, waiting for Roman to pick a side. Roman is out of time. He either makes a deal or risks being pushed out. He does not trust Dante, but rejecting him might be worse.
A server hands him a fresh drink. Roman barely acknowledges it, his mind elsewhere. He has spent years mastering this world, knowing exactly when to push forward and when to pull back. But this time, the stakes feel different. The wrong choice could cost him everything.
Savannah’s Realization
Savannah finishes her shift, but she is not ready to go home. Instead, she finds herself at a quiet high-limit lounge, sipping her drink and staring at the Strip through floor-to-ceiling windows. The city is still alive, glowing neon against the dark, but to her, it feels different tonight. Distant. Almost hollow.
The reality of what almost happened is settling in. She saw the warning signs and ignored them. Alessia saved her this time, but she cannot keep tempting fate. This life, the one she has built here, is not as effortless as she once believed. The illusion is cracking, piece by piece.
Outside the casino, under the glow of a flickering neon sign, Roman and Alessia stand side by side, watching the city breathe.
“This lawsuit,” Roman says, lighting a cigarette. “Think it sticks?”
Alessia considers it. “If it does, we’re looking at a different Vegas.”
Roman exhales smoke, watching it curl into the night. “Maybe it’s time.”
She turns to him, surprised. “You really think they’ll clean up?”
He smirks, shaking his head. “No. But they’ll make it look like they did.”
Roman knows the weight of the decision he has to make. Dante Rossi is not a man you say no to without consequences. If he takes the deal, he is compromised. If he refuses, he is a liability. There is no clean way out.
The Strip keeps humming, relentless. A mirage, ever shifting. But for the first time in a long time, cracks are starting to show.
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