Dennis was afraid at first, but then he perked up when he saw two cute girls approaching. ‘Alright, the night’s turning around. Maybe Maluck wasn’t such a bad guy after all. Hell, maybe he was even a great guy.’

  “Pull up a seat, ladies,” Maluck said with a grin, leaning back like a man completely at ease. Because he was.

  Cass slid into the booth beside him, setting a thick folder on the table with the kind of finality that suggested it contained either important financial documents… or an arrest warrant.

  Chloe, meanwhile, tilted her head with a sweet smile. “Mind if I sit beside you?”

  Dennis, feeling like he was finally catching a break, patted the booth seat while scooting over, giving his best charming and totally not desperate smile. “Not at all, little lady.”

  Chloe smiled back, but it wasn’t the flirty kind of smile Dennis had hoped for. It was more like a you-poor-dumb-bastard kind of smile.

  Before Dennis could try to charmingly flirt with Chloe, Cass spoke up.

  “Nice to meet you, Dennis.”

  Dennis frowned slightly. Something felt… off. “How do you know my name? Did Maluck tell you he was hanging out with me?”

  “Oh no,” Cass said smoothly, tapping the folder. “I didn’t need Maluck to tell me. I know all about you…” She let the sentence hang for a moment before adding, “…from these documents.”

  She flipped the folder open, revealing an impressive amount of paperwork. Dennis, who was very familiar with numbers, saw a lot of spreadsheets, official-looking forms, and—was that a goddamn pie chart?

  Dennis’s unease doubled. “Wait… what kind of documents?”

  Cass turned a page, scanning it with an amused expression. “Oh, you know. Payroll discrepancies, donation inconsistencies, some very creative tax reporting…”

  Chloe, who had been casually stirring her drink, leaned in. “Basically, everything that proves you’re very good at laundering money, Dennis.”

  Dennis went stiff. “I—what—who—” His eyes darted to Maluck, who just sipped his whiskey, looking way too entertained.

  Cass continued flipping through the folder, her voice almost cheerful. “Oh, and look at this. Casino withdrawal records, cash advances… damn, Dennis, you really like to gamble.”

  Chloe shook her head in mock concern. “You know, that’s a real problem. Gambling addiction ruins lives.”

  Dennis gulped. “I—I wouldn’t say I like to gamble. It’s just—”

  Cass slid another paper forward, cutting him off. “And yet, here’s your extensive credit history with every casino in a hundred-mile radius. You’ve got outstanding debts in three different places. Oh, and this part here?” She tapped a highlighted section. “It seems like you’ve been dipping into the donation funds just to cover your losses.”

  Dennis’s face paled. “Wait, wait, hold on a sec—”

  Maluck finally spoke up, grinning. “Oh, no rush, Dennis. Take your time. We’ll wait while you figure out which excuse you want to go with.”

  Dennis’s eyes darted between Maluck, Cass, and Chloe, his mind racing.

  Chloe leaned closer, giving him a sincere smile. “So…You still feeling lucky tonight?”

  ***

  Dennis looked at Maluck, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, his brain desperately trying to process what was happening. Maluck just grinned. “Why yes, Dennis. This was, in fact, a big ol’ trap. And look at you, figuring it out with that giant brain of yours. Impressive.”

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  Dennis blinked. His mind was a scrambled mess of panic, regret, and the lingering hope that maybe—maybe—this was all some kind of elaborate joke. But no, the way Maluck was smiling at him? That was the kind of smile a cat gave a mouse right before it pounced.

  The realization hit him like a sucker punch. Actually, no—a series of sucker punches.

  First,, he’d lost everything at the roulette table, his last shot at crawling out of this mess dissolving into the cold, unfeeling abyss of Green Zero.

  Then the bikers had muscled in on him, casually taking his ID, his address, and his peace of mind.

  And now? Now these two girls—who he thought were just some flirty bar-side company—were laying out his financial crimes in crisp, organized spreadsheets like they were presenting a goddamn TOD Talk on his downfall.

  It was a one-two-three combo that would’ve made a heavyweight champ proud. A financial, psychological, and emotional beatdown that left Dennis as dazed as if he’d actually been clocked in the face.

  He swayed slightly in his seat, looking at the papers, then at Maluck, then back at the papers. “I… uh…” His throat was dry. “I need a drink.”

  Maluck smirked. “Yeah, you definitely do, buddy.”

  “Let me get that for you,” Chloe said smoothly, not letting Dennis so much as shift in his seat. She flagged down a passing waitress with a smile so sweet it should’ve come with a warning label.

  “Four whiskeys,” she ordered. Then, without missing a beat, she added, “Make his a double.”

  Dennis blinked. “Wait, why mine?”

  Maluck smirked, leaning back. “Because, buddy, you’re gonna need it.”

  The waitress, blissfully unaware of the psychological warfare unfolding at the table, just nodded. “Coming right up.”

  Dennis looked between them, like a cornered animal realizing the trap had just gotten deeper. His leg twitched, like he was ready to bolt—but Chloe’s casual-yet-deadly presence beside him on the booth seat made it clear: he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Maluck drummed his fingers on the table. “So, Dennis, while we wait for those drinks, let’s talk about solutions.”

  Dennis gulped. “Solutions?”

  Cass tapped the folder in front of her. “Yeah. Because right now, your options are looking… not great.”

  Dennis forced a weak chuckle. “Haha… ha… okay, what… uh… what options are we talking about here?”

  The waitress returned, setting down the whiskeys. Dennis immediately grabbed his and took a long, desperate sip.

  Maluck raised his own glass. “To business opportunities.”

  Chloe clinked her glass against his, grinning. Cass just smiled—the kind of smile that said, You’re going to cooperate, or you’re going to regret it.

  Dennis just downed his whiskey in one go.

  Yep. He was so screwed.

  ***

  Dennis stared at Maluck, his face cycling through at least four different stages of grief before finally deciding to settle on whiskey-soaked despair.

  Cass leaned in, tapping her neatly manicured nails against the folder. “Here’s the thing, Dennis. I know money’s being funneled out of this quote-unquote charity, and only ten percent is actually reaching the people it’s supposed to. These cars? Yeah, they’re being sold, not given away.” She tilted her head. “Which, shocker, is super illegal.”

  Dennis squirmed in his seat. “Look, I—I don’t know anything about that. I just move the accounts into the shell companies and label them under administrative expenses and consulting. That’s all I know.”

  Maluck grinned. “And that, my friend, is all you need to know.” He took a sip of whiskey, then set the glass down with a clink. “Because from now on, all that money? It’s moving into a different account.”

  Dennis blinked. “What?”

  Maluck leaned forward, grinning like a man who definitely had all the cards. “From now on, you work for me.”

  Dennis downed the rest of his whiskey in a single, desperate gulp. He could only repeat, “What?!”

  “It’s really simple,” Maluck said, casually swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “You either work for me, keep your cushy job—with no more skimming, obviously—or…”

  He let the sentence hang, then gestured lazily toward the lounge entrance, where Liquor Guy and his buddies were loitering, laughing over drinks. Definitely not a group of people Dennis wanted showing up at his house.

  Dennis paled. “Uh—”

  “Oh! And, of course,” Cass added, flipping a page in the folder, “if you say no, all this juicy little info? Goes straight to the CRA.” She flashed a smile. “Which means tax fraud, wire fraud, misappropriation of funds—oof, that’s a lot of years, Dennis.”

  Dennis looked between them, then back at Maluck. “But—but what about the other people running things? Won’t they come after us?”

  Maluck smiled, slow and confident. “That’s my problem. You just need to worry about making sure the money goes where I say it goes.”

  Dennis gulped down another drink—his third in less than two minutes. His hands were shaking. His future was flashing before his eyes, and it looked an awful lot like a choice between prison, bikers, or this lunatic in front of him.

  “Do I… do I even have a choice here?” Dennis croaked.

  Maluck’s grin widened. “Not really.”

  Dennis stared at him for a long, painful moment.

  Then, finally—reluctantly—he nodded.

  Gulp.

  Maluck smiled not just because he had taken over this shady charity, but because the System Task had popped up

  [System Task: House Always Wins] COMPLETE

  ?Keep Dennis chasing his losses until he’s drowning in desperation.

  ?Push him deeper—encourage bigger bets, reckless decisions, and the belief that his luck must turn around.

  ?Ensure that when he finally hits rock bottom, he has no choice but to lean on Maluck.

  Rewards:

  ?+0.3 Charisma (because conning someone into ruining themselves is an art)

  ***

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