The Gamblers Rebirth Dailymotion

The Gambler's Rebirth

EstrangementComebackRevengeRealityFamilyModern

Nick was framed by his family to take the blame for his adopted brother Ricky, leading to ten years in prison. There, he met Shawn, a gambling master, and became his apprentice. After his release, he took revenge on his hypocritical family, saved his childhood friend from the orphanage, and finally brought the wicked to justice.

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Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle

Ming Yue

Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire. I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper. I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock. I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim. "If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned. So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months. Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout. But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back.

Modern Scheming Contract marriage Billionaires CEO Flash Marriage Revenge Age Gap

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I had thalassophobia, a condition rooted in an incident ten years ago when I saved Alec Johnson from a dangerous undertow.

He once held my shivering body and swore he would never let me near the ocean again.

Later, his first love, Rosalyn Martin, known as the "Mermaid Dancer," injured herself before a crucial underwater documentary shoot.

Unable to find a stand-in, he turned to me.

He locked me in a swaying cabin, his eyes bloodshot as he pleaded, "Maeve, your build is the closest to hers. Please, finish this last underwater ballet scene for her. This is her lifelong dream. I'm begging you."

They forced me into a diving suit and pushed me into the dark, icy depths that had nearly claimed my life once before.

When I surfaced, driven by sheer survival instinct, I saw him cradling a tearful Rosalyn, soothing her gently. "Rosalyn, don't cry. Your dream is complete."

No one noticed I had nearly died down there.

He didn't know that every investment in his thriving company came from me.

What he was about to destroy wasn't just my love but his entire future.

...

The cabin door was chained shut from the outside.

Each wave that struck the boat sent a dull thud through me, like a hammer pounding my heart.

I curled up in a corner, hands clamped over my ears, but the endless, deep blue terror seeped through the porthole, flooding my world.

I had thalassophobia.

The sight of water made breathing difficult. The sound of waves triggered heart palpitations and ringing ears. Being confined in a small space sparked my worst claustrophobic panic.

This fear stemmed from saving Alec years ago.

During our college graduation trip, he recklessly swam near the rocks and got swept away by a current.

I, the only witness, jumped in without thinking.

I pushed him to shore, but a surging wave slammed me against the rocks, dragging me under.

Those three minutes of suffocation and darkness haunted my dreams for the next seven years.

When I woke, Alec held me, sobbing like a child.

He apologized repeatedly, swearing I would never have to face the sea again.

Seven years passed.

He built a top-tier underwater filming company, earning the title of "Director Johnson" in the industry.

To ease his guilt, I pretended I had healed.

But that day, he tore through my facade and broke his own vow.

The cabin door creaked open.

Alec stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light, his face etched with an unfamiliar mix of urgency and conflict.

Behind him stood his first love, Rosalyn, the celebrated "sea sprite" dancer, her arm wrapped in thick bandages, eyes red and piteous, as if I were the one about to push her into an abyss.

"Maeve..." Alec knelt before me, his voice hoarse.

His hand reached for me, but I flinched in terror.

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