RICHARD’S POV “Shit! Grandpa!” Amelia screamed, rushing to his side."Great, now you've killed the oldman," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. I rushed to his side to help him up."Shut up!" the thug leader snappedThe thug loomed over Tom, a pistol glinting like a bad omen in his hand. "One billion," he boomed, his voice the gravelly remnants of too many cigarettes and too few moral principles. "Interest on the little twerp's debt."Amelia tried to reason. "Sir, one million was the original agreement. We simply…”The thug cut her off with a snort. "Sweetheart, agreements are for suckers. Now, you've got two options: cough up the cash or watch your brother take a permanent nap."Tom was visibly shaking. “I–I'll get the money, just give me some time.”The leader grabbed him by the collar. “You've had some time, and now time's up.”I swear, I’ve seen calmer hostage situations in bad action movies. One minute we were talking about some old gambling debt, the next minute grand

RICHARD’S POV I hadn't invited Dennis, the consortium chairman, to my father's house yet. This was the second task my father had given me and my stepbrothers. Time was ticking, and I knew I had to move fast. So, I jumped into my car and sped to the headquarters. Here I was, back in the opulent shark tank of Consortium HQ, my palms slicker than a politician's promises. This whole "befriend the chairman" charade my old man had concocted felt more like a suicide mission than a family bonding exercise. "Alright, Richard," I muttered to myself, smoothing down my rumpled suit. "Second task, Operation Butter Up Dennis. Let's do this.” With a deep breath, I swaggered towards the receptionist, a woman whose smile could make diamonds jealous. "Hi there, sunshine," I chirped, channeling my inner witt. "Richard Thorne here. See if you can work your magic and get me a quick chat with the big cheese himself, Mr. Dennis." Her smile faltered for a millisecond, then returned, a touch less dazzli

RICHARD'S POV The familiar scent of Dad's expensive perfume filled the dining room, but the usual comfort and warmth of the Thorne family dinner was replaced by a heavy, palpable tension that hung in the air like a challenge, making the formal gathering feel strained and uncomfortable. "Don't tell me," William drawled, his voice dripping with feigned sympathy, "the elusive Mr. Dennis is running fashionably late?" I shot him a glare over the rim of my glass, taking a slow sip of my scotch. "Patience, dear brother. Some things in life are worth waiting for." His laugh was like nails on a chalkboard. "You mean like your inheritance? We're still waiting on you to deliver on that one, Richie." "Enough, both of you," Dad interjected, his voice sharp enough to slice through the tension. He sat at the head of the table, a mahogany throne that perfectly embodied his role as the family patriarch. His gaze settled on me, a mixture of expectation and something unnervingly close to pity in hi

RICHARD’S POV The rest of dinner was a goddamn circus act. My brothers, suddenly on their best behavior, didn't dare breathe a word against Cathy after her little outburst. It was hilarious watching them tiptoe around her, terrified of saying the wrong thing. William, the king of backhanded compliments, resorted to showering Cathy with insincere flattery. "You know, Cathy, for someone with such a sharp mind, you're remarkably open-minded about... alternative approaches." He said it with a strained smile, like he was trying to swallow a mouthful of vinegar. Jonathan, bless his simple soul, wasn't doing much better. He kept trying to steer the conversation towards his latest charity project, probably hoping to impress Cathy with his altruism. It fell flat, like a bad joke told at a funeral. Cathy, bless her heart, just sat there with a politely bored expression. It was obvious she saw right through their act. William and Jonathan, sensing the shifting tides of power, did thei

RICHARD'S POVAfter the game, I was driving home, still buzzing with the thrill of victory. The game was still fresh in my mind as I drove home, the taste of victory sweet on my tongue. That’s when the Ultra Billionaire System chimed in."Spend $10 million for 3 Ultra Points.”I almost swerved off the road. "$10 million? What the hell am I supposed to buy with that?”I let out a low whistle. "Damn, that's a hefty sum."I decided to swing by my dad’s place. He usually had something interesting going on. As I pulled into the driveway, I saw Jonathan and William’s cars already parked. Great, a family meeting."Hey, Dad," I greeted as I walked in. Jonathan and William stood nearby, their expressions unreadable. "Good timing," Dad said, looking up from a picture on the table. "Richard, glad you could join us," he added, holding up the picture. "What's up?" I asked, curiosity piqued."Time for your next task," my father said, handing me the picture. Jonathan and William started smirking,