Millionaire by Deception: His 5-Day Secret to Riches Revealed (The Shocking Story of a Desperate Son's Ultimate Scam)

My father was a grifter. Out of 365 days a year, I was lucky to see him for 65. The rest of the time, he was darting between casinos. During the rare times we spent together, my father taught me a lot about the art of cheating. I learned quickly and mastered the techniques, but he always warned me: I could learn all the tricks, but I could never use them. If he ever found out I stepped foot in a casino, he’d break my legs. Life went on like that. Until that night. A frantic knock at the door startled me awake. When I opened it, the first thing I smelled was blood. Several burly men dragged a man covered in blood, dumping him at our doorstep. The man, drenched in crimson, his right hand severed, was my father!

0I couldn’t reconcile the man before me, covered in blood, his face swollen beyond recognition, with my once dashing and charming father. I froze, feeling as if all strength had been drained from my body by an unseen hand. My mother had passed away early, and in my father’s absence, it had always been just my younger brother, Finn, and me, relying on each other. Now, seeing our father drenched in blood, Finn and I were both completely panicked. My father was rushed into the ER. The doctor, stone-faced, presented the bill and told me to pay. “Three thousand dollars for the surgery, not a penny less, or we can’t proceed. If you want him to live, pay up.” But where was I supposed to find three thousand dollars? Mom was gone… if Dad died too, our family would fall apart. I glanced at Finn. He’d just stumbled at a crucial point in his life, unsure of his future. Expecting him to produce that much money was absurd. I stood by the hospital window, feeling desperate and helpless. Through the glass, I saw a bright neon sign hanging on the building across the street. It read: Card Room. Those two words felt like a mystic master, pointing the way. As if they were telling me, Come on in. Step inside, and you’ll have the money to save your father. The words “Card Room” seemed to possess an immense magic, pulling me in, as if all I had to do was walk through the door… and I’d have the cash to save Dad. I handed Finn my savings book, which held a few hundred dollars, and told him to handle things at the hospital for now. “I’ll figure out the rest of the money. If the doctors ask, tell them I’ll have it by tomorrow morning.” Clutching the last few hundred dollars I had, I quickly walked into that card room. Inside, cigarette smoke hung thick in the air. People sat at card tables like zombies, their eyes hollow, as if their souls had been sucked out. “A haze of smoke and raw despair” was the perfect description for this place. I stood near the door, observing carefully, finally settling my gaze on a table in the corner. They were two players short, needing a third for a fast-paced card game. The minimum bet was fifty dollars, the maximum two hundred. This was within my budget. I pulled up a chair and sat between the two players. I looked them over: one with a round face, the other with messy, instant-noodle hair. Both had dark circles under their sunken eyes. They were clearly seasoned gamblers, regulars here. I nonchalantly pulled out a cigarette and put it in my mouth, feigning ease. Rocky, the round-faced one, was the dealer. Spike, with the messy hair, was my downstream player. I was caught in the middle, like prey between two predators. We started placing our bets. The first hand began. We each held sixteen cards. The first one out took all the money from the last one remaining. The second one out broke even. So, whoever was last lost the most.

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