Alexander Kane Is Not a Poor Bastard!

Chapter Six Jack Voiced Out

As Jack stood there, watching the doctor waver, he felt a rush of satisfaction. The man’s hesitation was palpable—fear flickered behind his eyes, caught between the threat of Alexander’s legal action and the undeniable allure of Jack’s money. Jack knew which choice would win out. Who would really believe this “Mr. Poor Alexander” could take legal action?

Jack’s lips curled into a sly, almost cruel smirk. He leaned forward slightly, his voice laced with mockery. “Doctor, are you actually afraid? Or is it just the thrill of watching ‘Mr. Poor Alexander’ play dress-up in a thrift store suit?” His words sliced through the air, calculated and precise.

The insult hung between them, sharp and stinging. Alexander felt the old instinct to retaliate rising in his chest. He wanted to lash out, to let the anger flood him. But he held it back, his breathing steady, his mind clear. This was not the time.

Years of humiliation and betrayals had sculpted him into something different—someone who had learned to endure, to transform the pain into something more powerful. Today, he would show them that he was no longer the man they once dismissed.

The doctor shifted uneasily, glancing between the two men. Jack’s insults came faster now, sharp and unrelenting. “I paid you to remove this lowlife from the hospital,” Jack spat, his voice rising with impatience, “and instead, here you are, letting his empty threats rattle you! Isn’t that right, Doctor?”

Alexander took a step forward, his body straightening, his presence growing. He was no longer the desperate man they’d mocked. He was something else now. His voice, when it came, was as calm as a storm waiting to break. “You think my threats are empty?” His eyes locked onto Jack’s, and something in his gaze made Jack take an involuntary step back.

The air between them crackled with tension.

Jack faltered, his bravado slipping. His once confident smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. He muttered under his breath, his voice strained, “Throw him out, Doctor! I already paid you double! Just do it!”

The doctor swallowed hard, his hand hovering above the phone, torn between the weight of the money Jack had offered and the fear of the consequences Alexander had just alluded to. He glanced at Alexander, weighing the potential ruin of his career against the temporary comfort of the cash in his account.

The decision churned within him, and after a long, painful pause, he finally sighed, his shoulders slumping in resignation. “I’m refunding your payment, Mr. Havit. I can’t go through with this.” His voice was steady, but reluctant, and every tap on his phone felt heavier than the last. Jack’s payment had been generous, but the consequences of siding with him were too great.

Alexander’s eyes narrowed, but a hint of gratitude softened his gaze. “You’re doing the right thing, Doctor.” He paused, his gaze shifting to Jack. “And just so it’s clear,” he continued, his voice firm, “I’ll be covering my daughter’s treatment from here on out. Refund him every penny.”

Jeruel, who had been standing off to the side, scoffed loudly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Oh, look who’s playing the hero! You can barely afford food, and now you’re offering to cover hospital bills?” Her laugh was a mockery, her words dripping with disdain.

Diana joined in, her voice equally cold. “Doctor, don’t listen to him. He’s nothing but a pauper. If you refund Mr. Havit, he’d be left with no way to cover the costs. He’s just lying to save face.”

Their laughter was sharp, cruel, and it was clear they relished the idea of seeing Alexander squirm. The doctor hesitated, glancing at Alexander once more. The man had certainly seemed poor, defeated even, just the night before. But now, standing before them, his presence was different. He was unyielding, almost intimidating in his quiet resolve.

The doctor shifted uncomfortably, torn between the image of the man who had appeared to be on the brink of despair and the steady strength he now projected. “I’m sorry, Mr. Alexander,” the doctor said, his voice betraying a faint hint of doubt, “but I can only refund the extra payment, not the full amount.” He hesitated, as if weighing his next words carefully. “But I won’t force you out. You’re welcome to stay if you choose.”

The words were polite, but Alexander could feel the skepticism beneath them. It stung. It hurt to see that no one believed in him. But even worse was the reminder that he had allowed people like Jack, Jeruel, and Diana to think he was incapable. That had been his mistake. But not anymore.

With a deep breath, Alexander squared his shoulders. “I’ll transfer four times the bill amount to you, Doctor,” he announced calmly. “Refund him everything. She’s my child, and I won’t let anyone else shoulder the responsibility.”

Jeruel’s and Diana’s mocking expressions faltered, confusion creeping in. “Please. Save us all the theatrics, Doctor,” Jeruel sneered, though the unease in her voice betrayed her uncertainty. “He’s bluffing. He has nothing. This is all an act.”

The doctor wavered, doubt clouding his judgment. But Alexander’s gaze, unwavering and steady, anchored him. It was a gaze that left no room for doubt. He was not bluffing.

Reluctantly, the doctor decided to give Alexander a chance. After all, no one would claim to pay quadruple without reason. With a swift motion, Alexander took out his phone, his fingers moving with precision. This was his moment.

“Sent, Doctor. Confirm the payment,” Alexander said, his voice ringing with quiet authority. There was no hesitation now. This was not an act. This was real.

“What?” Diana’s voice was barely a whisper, her disbelief evident. Jeruel’s and Jack’s expressions mirrored her shock, their jaws slack with astonishment.

Jeruel snatched the doctor’s phone out of his hands, her eyes scanning the transaction details. Her shock deepened with every digit. “Twenty-five thousand dollars?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper, as if the words themselves couldn’t quite make sense.

Alexander’s voice was calm, his gaze unflinching as he looked directly at them. His anger had dissipated, replaced by a quiet dignity that cut deeper than any insult. “Take a good look,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of everything he had endured. “Because I’m not the man you once knew.”