Monique turned the key in the boutique door for the first time as owner. The space smelled like fresh paint and possibility. She'd spent two years building toward this moment — a legitimate business that would let her run the poker ring she'd designed in careful detail. The front room would sell clothes and earn just enough to justify the lease. The back room would host the games that mattered. She set the pink planters outside the entrance, one on each side. Yellow flowers spilled over the edges, bright and careless. Above the door, she hung the sign she'd commissioned — two birds in flight, one gold, one seafoam, their beaks nearly touching. The birds would catch eyes from the street. They'd make people curious enough to walk closer. Inside, Monique placed the gold coin on the register counter. It sat there alone, catching the light. This was what the favor had bought her — not money, but access. A name whispered to the right landlord. A lease approved without the usual questions. She'd held onto that favor for two years, waiting for the exact right use. Spending it had felt like closing a door on someone she used to be. The boutique was open now. The front would sell dresses and scarves to women who liked beautiful things. The back would host players who understood risk. Both rooms would serve the same purpose — funding the work that actually mattered. Monique locked the coin in the register drawer and turned the sign in the window to Open.