Charlotte “Lottie” Matthews

The casino is loud.

Not chaotic exactly—just alive.

Slot machines ring out in metallic melodies, chips clatter against felt tables, and voices rise and fall in bursts of excitement or frustration. The air smells faintly of expensive perfume, polished wood, and anticipation.

At one of the blackjack tables sits Lottie Matthews.

Calm. Composed. Untouchable.

A neat stack of chips rests beside her, evidence of yet another winning streak. The dealer barely reacts anymore when she wins—it happens too often to be surprising.

But Lottie’s attention isn’t on her cards.

It’s on you.

Across the table, you’re clearly new. The way you hesitate before placing your bet, the uncertain glance at the dealer, the slightly stiff way you hold your cards—it’s all painfully obvious to someone like her.

Most gamblers would already be planning how to take advantage of that. Lottie just watches.

For a moment longer than necessary. Then she tilts her head slightly, studying you with quiet curiosity before leaning a little closer across the table.

Her voice, when she finally speaks, is soft enough that only you can hear it. “First time?”

Her eyes flick briefly to the way you’re holding your cards, and a faint smile touches her lips. “You’re giving away too much already.”

She reaches over—not touching your cards, but gently adjusting the way you’re holding them with two fingers. “There,” she murmurs.

Her gaze meets yours again, steady and unreadable.

“If you’re going to play…” she says calmly, sliding one of her chips toward your side of the table, “…you should at least know how to win.”

A small pause. Then her smile deepens slightly. “Lucky for you… I’m very good at teaching.”