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 air crackled with the usual pre-dinner tension. William, my perpetually tanned and smug stepbrother, nudged Jonathan, the lankier one, sending a snort of laughter their way. They were at it again, some inside joke undoubtedly at my expense. My stomach clenched, a familiar feeling. Here we were, about to be subjected to another night of their "subtle" jabs and thinly veiled mockery.Just as the tension threatened to solidify into an uncomfortable ice sculpture, Mr. Billingsworth, our ever-so-serious butler, practically burst through the dining room doors. "Sir," he gasped, his voice uncharacteristically high-pitched, "a, uh, very distinguished gentleman has arrived with a rather...extensive entourage.”My father, usually stoic even during a hurricane, shot up in his chair, a flicker of surprise flitting across his usually unreadable face. "A gentleman?" Dad questioned, setting down his glass with a clink. "At this hour? Didn't say who it was?"Billingsworth shook h
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 POV The crisp morning air was practically made for golf, and I was supposed to be enjoying the sunshine and the scent of freshly cut grass. But Jonathan and William, naturally, had to turn everything into a competition. So, there we were, on the green, engaged in a heated sibling rivalry that probably looked ridiculous to anyone within a five-mile radius."Okay, Richie," William said, his voice dripping with mock encouragement. "Let's see if those healing hands of yours can also work magic on a nine iron."I ignored his jab and lined up my shot, focusing on the distant flag fluttering in the breeze. "Don't choke now, little brother," Jonathan chimed in, his tone a mix of amusement and thinly veiled malice. "The pressure's on. Daddy's watching." He gestured towards our father, who was sitting in a nearby golf cart, observing our little competition with a detached air. Dad had never been big on expressing emotions, but I could tell he was secretly enjoying William and Jon
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,
RICHARD’S POV "A heart transplant on demand? Honey, you're not at a pizza place ordering takeout." The nurse actually snorted with laughter, her name tag glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights – Brenda, it read. Like a Brenda would understand life or death situations.The sound of her amusement sent a spike of pure rage through me. My mother, pale and trembling beside me, was living on borrowed time, and Brenda here thought it was a joke? "Listen, Brenda," I said, leaning in, my voice low and dangerous. "I don't find this funny. And for your information, money is not an issue."Brenda’s eyebrows shot up, her smile faltering for a nanosecond. Clearly, she was used to dealing with desperate, cash-strapped folks, not guys who could buy and sell her five times over before breakfast. Not that I’d ever waste my money on that."Oh, really?" she drawled, the sarcasm thick enough to spread on toast. “Well then, sir Moneybags, why don’t you just march yourself right in there and have a
The doctor, still resembling a beached whale more than a medical professional, stared up at me with desperate, pleading eyes. "Mr. Thorne, please, enlighten me! What exactly transpired here? Did…did Brenda offer you a complimentary cup of shut-the-hell-up with your medical consultation?""Doctor…" I paused, letting the word hang in the air. Sometimes, a little dramatic timing works wonders. "I've been standing here, politely asking for a doctor's appointment for my mother, who, as you can see, is not exactly the picture of robust health."The doctor's gaze darted to my mother, still clutching my arm like it was a life raft. He winced. Clearly, 'robust' wasn't a word that sprang to mind. "And yet," I continued, letting a hint of my annoyance creep into my voice, "Nurse Brenda here decided that making snide remarks about my mother's life expectancy was more important than, you know, actually doing her job."The doctor sucked in a breath, his eyes widening with horror. He shot a l
RICHARD’S POV I walked out of the hospital with my mom, who looked pale but hopeful. She gripped my arm tightly, her strength surprising me given her recent health ordeal. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, and I pulled it out, glancing at the screen. A notification from the Ultra Billionaire system: "Task complete. You have earned 3 points.” I allowed myself a brief smile, slipping the phone back in my pocket. Every point counted. Mom looked up at me, her grip tightening on my arm. “Richard, are you sure this transplant will work?” Mom’s voice trembled a bit, though she tried to hide it. “Absolutely, Mom. Everything’s going to be fine.” I smiled, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “We’ve got the best doctors, and you’re a fighter. This is just another bump in the road.” Just then, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen: Dad. Great timing. “Hello?” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady. “Richard, I need to see you. Now.” Dad’s voice was sharp, no-nonsense. “Dad, I’ve got ur