[Prologue]

I swirled the wine, watching the liquid flow.

How freely they flowed, I thought as I held the wineglass against the light. The decanting process of this had been almost perfect. I sat in velvet couch, facing a million dollar view. Before me was a bank of windows, showing me the hustle-bustle below. The city that was New York.

My home for the past few years. The place where I thrived and flourished.

The place that would be my defeat too.

I heard the doors banging and slamming downstairs, and they were steadily climbing up to meet me. They were here for me -and I knew it. For the first time, I had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I had nowhere to go, and no reason to go anywhere either.

I felt like a failure. This was why I had never been invited to join The Circle. I never understood why, but now I did. Because I wasn't the top. I was a failure. A failure of someone of my profession to be conned. And I had been conned by the lowest of cons -a love con. I couldn't understand why I was so stupid, why I couldn't see. Blinded by love -I had been.

I took a sip from the ancient wine, tasting the exquisiteness of it sliding down my throat. I ran a finger over my stereo, beginning to fill the corners of my large apartment with soft jazz music. Oh, these would be the luxury I would miss.

They were coming. I heard the breaking down of doors nearing my apartment, searching for me. I closed my eyes, and finished the wine in my drink. I had prepared myself for this.

Or so I thought.

I took out my phone, and typed in a number that I would remember by heart forever.

I'm hung up on a wire. I'll see you when the dogs begin to howl.

I typed in my message and pressed the 'Send' button. I knew my phone was being tapped, and it would be years before my message would ever be uncoded. This was the code I would only use with one person, the only one person I would miss and regret.

I took out the battery and phone card, placing it face down on the table at my side. My back was kept entirely to the door, my armchair orientated to face only the large bank of windows that spanned from floor to ceiling.

I closed my eyes, listening to the jazz, to the banging of door at my doorstep. I did not reply, knowing they could hear my jazz music through the door, no matter how soft it was.

There was a longer span of hesitation before they started trying to knock down the door, and I knew that they had found me.

I closed my eyes, listening to the last few trippy notes of my favorite jazz solo.

The door crashed in.

"FBI! Put your hands where we can see them!" The customary shout rang in the entire apartment, and though I was stuck with them, I sighed at their lack of style. Could they at least change these words between times?

I knew there were at least ten of them rushing in, their guns locked on the back of my head. Through the dim reflection of the large window, I saw the black-clad figures stalking in, decked in protective gear. Their red dot sights must be resting on my head.

Slowly, I raised both my hands in the air, not making any signal that I was going to move anytime soon. A few of them ran before me, training their guns right in my face, hostility written across their face.

"Hayden Seyfried aka The Player, you are under arrest for forgery, battery assault, possession of unauthorized weapons, theft, theft of identity, bribery of governing officials, amongst other offences that are yet unconfirmed. You are suggested to stay silent for anything you say will be used against you in court." The customary announcement sounded again, and I sighed for a second time. No originality.

"You win, Agent Rainer Clarke. Rather, you win because I lost another game." I announced, standing up to greet the agent who had been posted with my cases ever since he entered the White Collar Division. For years, he had tracked me down, and almost caught me -though I was careful enough to never leave anything substantial for him to pin me down.

Until today.

"Somehow, I do not feel accomplished, Hayden. To have captured you while you were on your decline, it feels like I'm doing someone's dirty work, cleaning you up as a loose end." Agent Clarke walked into view, the only one without a gun -because he didn't need any at this moment.

I shrugged, still keeping my hands up in the air.

"The honor goes to Amandine Shrike. I'm sorry; Rainer, but she won this round."

"Leaving you out of the game and behind bars; finally." Agent Clarke took my hands almost gently, snapping in my metal restraints.

"Not for long, trust me." I gave him the charming smile my family was famous for. My dad could charm the pants of a supermodel with the same smile within milliseconds. My mum could get onto the Prime Minister's bed if she wanted with just that charming smile.

"Cut the charm out, Seyfried. You're under arrest." A flicker of annoyance flashed past his face. He didn't like it when I smiled to him like that -because I usually did it when I was successful in making him run around in circles.

"For alleged crimes, Agent Clarke. Alleged. I'll be out in no time." I replied confidently, coming to my feet with his ushering.

"Then when you are, pay me a visit and we'll have a cup of coffee. I'm not the best counselor, but I must say I'm a fan of your family. Seyfried has the best and most interesting history I ever had the pleasure to study. It is almost a disappointment to see you caught." Agent Clarke sounded conversational, and I laughed along, as if we were talking over dinner.

"Well, I've hit what you call a Con Artist-Block. I would like to just sit around and do nothing for the moment, so where else better to do that than in prison?"

A few other feds accompanied us for the ride in the elevator, but only Agent Clarke was undisturbed. In fact, when I was in my tip-top condition, Agent Clarke had shared a few glasses of wine with me over the table, with my playing chips and his uncompleted search warrants. In a way, we were unique friends. Enemy-friends.

"Well, for your sake, I hope you get a lighter sentence then." Agent Clarke continued our conversation as he escorted me to my 'limo'. I got in the Black SUV, looking up at my apartment.

"By the way, the answers to some other cases of yours are upstairs. You can come by to collect them when you have the time." I reminded him as another fed from his division got in the car with me. It was obvious he wasn't going to accompany me.

"Alright. I'll visit you when I have the time." He promised with a smile that was genuinely friendly. Coming from a fed, it was quite funny.

"Make sure you do." I bade him goodbye.

The SUV drives off, and I look through the rearview mirror to see him going back into the apartment.

What he doesn't know is that I have left my signature card in his suit pocket when I bumped into him while leaving the lift. In his pocket held my prized possession.

My Jack of Spades.

My Player Card.

********************************************************************

A few years later...

I flip the deck open and close again, glad to be fidgeting with something in my hands. There was one card missing, and I had forgotten the significance of it until I finally got my hands on this deck. My card. My card was gone from the entire deck.

That made me shifty as hell. I needed to know where my card was.

Once the door opened, I slammed the deck of cards on the table, standing up and glaring at him as he walked in.

"Where is my card?" I demanded, missing the usual charm I normally greeted him with. Nothing pissed me off than taking my card away from the deck.

"Sent in for evidence. Sit down, Seyfried." He replied, throwing a few files on the table while Agent Yuri, Smith and Ryan take their designated seats.

"What? 52 cards here, and the only card that is sent in for evidence is my card?!?" I hit my knuckles on the table, making it sound like I'd hit it with much force when I actually didn't.

Rainer actually looked slightly shocked at my explosive reaction, but he tamed that reaction away quickly, putting on a poker face quickly as he took his seat at the head of the table.

"We are dealing with Copycat, Seyfried. You weren't exactly subtle in dropping Jack of Spades everywhere you went." Rainer shot me a dirty look, as if daring for me to argue more on this.

"But Jack of Spades! Don't you know what this means?" I grabbed the deck from the table, bending it back until they came flying from my fingers, all over the office, making the feds jump at my sudden flashy movement.

"If you continue making this mess, I know it means you back behind bars." Rainer growled, glaring at me now, not understanding my anxiety. Few things got me so anxious, and Jack of Spades was one of them.

"Do you still have the Jack I gave you when you brought me in?" I changed the topic quickly, ignoring the weird, irritated looks on the feds' faces.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Give it." I demanded, and when Rainer took it out from his wallet, I slammed it in the middle of the table, on the files, on the messed up cards.

"Look at this. Closely." I said, taking the attention of the agents as they leaned forward to study my Jack of Spades. My card. My prized possession.

"It looks like any other-" Yuri began, but I hushed her up quickly, no matter how cute she was.

"Jack of Spades. You're looking at a young man, dark hair -probably black -intellectual, emotionally immature. Where did you say the card came from?"

"The fake statue was holding on to it." Rainer replied, inching forward and trying to see something from the card too.

"A fake statue coated in fake gold paint. He's cocky and arrogant, and showing off. He wants everyone to know that he's doing a copy cat, and he's proud that he can carry it out. He's confident. You're looking at a young man -probably still studying -seeing his childishness in trying to copy me. He is probably still a student."

"Boss, we have a file on someone like that. Leo Wheeler, studying third-year Criminology. He is a friend of Mr. Jones's son." Ryan began, and I clicked my fingers.

"Bingo. You've got him." I put a hand in the mess and picked out a file, glad that luck was working on my side when I pulled out the exact file of Leo Wheeler, throwing it open before Rainer, watching eyes turn worriedly to my boss as I discreetly retrieved my card.

"Yuri, get me a search warrant. I want to clear this case quick." Rainer finally looked up from the file, grudgingly agreeing to me.

"My job is done." I put hands in my pockets, beginning to walk out of the meeting room, but not before Rainer stopped me by a hand on my forearm as I brushed by his chair on the way to the door.

"Jack of Spades. Give it back." He didn't waste niceties.

"Get it back. It's on the table."

"No, I saw you take it." He insisted, and though it was true...

"Oh my. Boss, take a look at this." Smith was the first to notice, and since Rainer was occupied, I continued my hurried stride towards the door.

"I'm stepping out for a cup of coffee. See ya." I bade them, but none of them heard me.

No, they weren't listening to me at all.

They were busy staring at the tableful of Jack of Spades I'd made, just by splashing cards on the table.

They didn't know, but they don't have to know how I switched the card they'd given me and a specially designed deck of cards of my own. A specially designed deck that contained only Jack of Spades.

I was willing to give up 52 cards worth of Jack of Spades though.

What I wasn't willing to give up was my card.

My Jack of Spades.