The Rise Of The Belittled Maxwell Arnold

Chapter 6

“Is this some kind of a joke?” Maxwell spat out in shock, he tightened his grip around the knife he held and focused his gaze directly at the old man's eyeballs.

“No, it's not. It's just the truth.” The old man replied. He grabbed some napkins and wiped them off his mouth.

Maxwell could feel himself getting uneasy, he began to sweat profusely despite the cool air conditioner which blew cold air into the living room.

“Are you sure you’ve not gotten the wrong person?” He asked in concern, while the old man gave him a wide smile.

“C’mon, aren't you Maxwell? Maxwell Arnold?” The old man asked, causing further confusion in Maxwell's mind.

“How on earth did he know my name?” He muttered to himself as he took in a deep breath.

The old man noticed Maxwell's confusion and decided to tell him about everything.

“Listen, son, there is something you don't know, and I will gladly tell you about it now.” He paused to gulp down his juice.

The minor breaks in between his speech made Maxwell a bit agitated, he couldn't wait to hear the man's revelation.

“You once helped a dying old man some years ago, do you remember?” The man asked, and Maxwell could only furrow his brows.

He stared into the air, racking his brain badly, as he tried to catch a glimpse of what the man was saying.

“Four years ago, Crescent Avenue. Do you remember?”

Maxwell racked his brain further, then suddenly, his face widened in shock.

“Mr Smith?” Maxwell yelled out in surprise; the expression he wore showed that he needed an answer and wouldn't tolerate any delay.

“That's him.”

Maxwell shrunk back in his chair, as his brain was filled with memories of that day. He had just returned from a patient's house when he saw an old man struggling for breath by the roadside. Unluckily, it was raining heavily that very day. People watched and feared helping the miserable man.

Without too much thinking, he had rushed to the old man, and saved his life, thanks to his excellent medical skill.

“Where is he now?” Maxwell asked the old man, his face written in excitement.

“He passed away. But before he did, he instructed me to get something done, which has to do with you.” Said the old man.

“Me? How come?”

The old man called the attention of a maid and instructed her to bring some documents, which were handed over to Maxwell.

“Feel free to go through the documents.” The old man said, and he obeyed.

As he flipped through the pages, he was stunned by the great deal of properties and wealth registered under Mr Smith's name, he was even more shocked to see the name of a renowned brand on the document.

“SkyDrive,” he mumbled to himself and then faced the old man.

“Don't tell me he owns SkyDrive?” Curiosity was boldly written all over his face. SkyDrive was a top-rated brand, not only in Los Angeles but all over the world. It was widely known for its specialty in aeronautics and the building of world-class vehicles and machinery.

“Yes, he does.” The old man replied with a smile, and Maxwell crashed further into his chair.

He never knew that the old man he casually saved was the owner of such a renowned brand. It was not so shocking after all; everyone had longed to know the brain behind SkyDrive, but the identity of the owner was never made public, and no one could say a thing about him.

There was no doubt that Mr Smith was immensely wealthy. All of his total assets were worth thousands of billions of dollars; even his account statement was enough to power the whole of Los Angeles for the next hundred years.

“But there is something I am not getting; what does all of these have to do with me? I mean, what did he tell you that made you seek after me.” Maxwell asked the old man, doubt and confusion written boldly on his face.

The old man, who was called Mr Jude by name, cleared his throat and faced Maxwell squarely.

“Unfortunately, as wealthy as Mr Smith was, he never had a child of his own, no one to pass his wealth to.”

“Still, what does that have to do with me?” Maxwell asked respectfully, trying not to sound rude to Mr Jude.

“Since he had no heir, he chose to pass all of his wealth to you.” Mr Jude announced with a smile, and Maxwell's head turned.

“What?” That was the only thing that could escape Maxwell's mouth.

“I have evidences here to back up my claim.” The old man said and switched on the television.

A video of the dying moment of Mr Smith popped up on the screen, and his words about passing his wealth to Maxwell infiltrated deep into his ears.

Maxwell opened his mouth to speak but closed it, he couldn't find the right words to express his emotions.

Various thoughts clashed in his mind, he wondered how he could suddenly transform from a belittled, poor physician to an immensely wealthy man, all in a day.

Mr Jude took out another set of documents and placed them in front of Maxwell; it was an ownership transfer agreement.

Maxwell could read that Mr Smith had transferred all of his wealth to his name and even had his signature on it. What was remaining was Maxwell's signature, and everything would be done.

“Maxwell, accept this offer, so Mr Smith could rest in peace. Leave behind your past, and embrace your future. All of this wealth is waiting for you to claim it.” Mr Jude said, he grabbed Maxwell's hand and rubbed it gently.

Maxwell seemed to be at a loss of what to do, it seemed he needed more time to adjust to the situation, or he was probably still doubting if everything happening was fake, or maybe he was in a deep slumber. He pinched himself, and he knew everything happening was reality.

He sighed; he had seen Mr Smith's dying video; it couldn't be fake, but it seemed his brain was somehow slow in processing all of this; everything was happening too fast.

“Maxwell, do you want to sign and claim all of this wealth?” Mr Jude said warmly that Maxwell immediately felt loved and warm.

He stared into Mr Jude's loving eyes, and he knew he couldn't be deceiving him.

“Will you?” He asked one more time, and Maxwell swallowed hard.

“Yes, I will.”