Spectators crowded tighter around table seven, forming a half-circle three layers deep. Phones were out. Whispers spread like wildfire. Someone even climbed onto a nearby stool just to get a better look, nearly getting scolded by security.
"Is that the kid?"
"She hasn't lost once."
"I swear she hasn't even looked at her cards."
"No way, that's illegal, right?"
"Shhh, don't jinx it!"
The table itself looked like a battlefield. Empty seats surrounded us—evidence of other players who had entered with confidence and left with regret and significantly lighter pockets.
New players would sit down, flash smug smiles, lose three rounds in a row, and then quietly stand up like they'd suddenly remembered they left the stove on at home. Others didn't even bother hiding their shock, just staring at me for a solid ten seconds before backing away like I was cursed.
At this point, only five opponents remained.
Me.
Angela, who was now basically my cheerleader.
