Divorced By My Wife, The System Made Me A Trillionaire!

"Please, Clara. I'm begging you. Forty-seven thousand. My mother will die without it."

Arthur's knees slammed into the hardwood. He grabbed the hem of Clara's blazer, fingers shaking so hard he could barely hold the fabric.

Two days without sleep. His eyes were red, swollen and sunken.

Clara looked down at him .

"Let go of my clothes."

"Clara, please—"

"I said let it go," she said, tugging the fabric loose and smoothing it out with her hand, her eyes getting smaller. "You're going to mess it up. This jacket is really expensive, more than you've ever earned in a whole year. And that's not surprising, since you've never had a real job anyway."

Across the room, Julian Thorne sat sprawled on the leather couch, legs crossed, swirling a glass of red wine.

He watched Arthur as he adjusted his Cartier gold-rimmed glasses — two thousand five hundred dollars, a price he'd mentioned once, casually, like it was pocket change — and tilted his head.

"Man," Julian said, taking a slow sip of his drink. "I'm gonna be straight up with you, this is tough to see”

He let out a low whistle, shaking his head.

"You're really down to nothing, aren't you? I mean, absolutely nothing." He reached into his jacket, pulled out a crumpled fifty-dollar bill, and tossed it at Arthur. It hit his shoulder and fell to the floor. "Here, take it. Go get yourself something to eat, maybe a couple of sandwiches."

He gave a sympathetic grin. "Honestly, you're kinda pitiful right now. You know how you're coming across?"

Arthur didn't answer.

“Nothing,” Julian said, and then he popped a grape into his mouth.

Arthur's gaze stayed fixed on Clara, avoiding Julian altogether.

He couldn't bear to look at the flashy gold chain hanging from his neck, resting on his expensive Tom Ford shirt like a symbol of ownership - a staggering fifteen thousand dollars worth of gold.

Nor could he glance at the luxurious Patek Philippe Nautilus watch on Julian's wrist, its hundred and twenty thousand dollar price tag gleaming in the light with every movement.

If he dared to look, his anger would boil over, and he couldn't afford to lose control, not now, not when his mother's life still hung in the balance.

The thought of her fragile state kept his emotions in check, but it was a delicate balance, one that could shift at any moment.

"Clara," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your company just made a huge profit - two million dollars last quarter. And I'm only asking for a tiny fraction of that, just forty-seven thousand dollars. It's a loan, that's all. I promise I'll pay it back, every single penny. I'll work day and night, take on three jobs if I have to. I'll do anything, just please... "

"No."

Clara folded her arms, a stubborn look on her face. "You're not getting any money from me, not for your mom, not for anything," she said firmly. Then she stopped, and a chill crept into her eyes. "To be honest, I'm tired of pretending like this is all okay. It's just not working out."

She stretched out her arm, grabbed a manila envelope that was sitting on the dining table, and flipped it towards him so it landed near his knees.

The contents spilled out, and he saw that they were divorce papers, all filled out and signed by her already.

"Sign."

Arthur stared. " Clara—"

"Julian is investing five million into my company." She said the number slowly. Let it sink in. " Five million. And you're on your knees begging for forty-seven thousand. You see the difference between you two? “

Julian lifted his glass in a toast to Arthur, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"No bad blood, friend," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Or maybe, just a bit." He paused to take another sip, his eyes locked on Arthur's. "To be honest, you're a bit of a snooze fest."

Arthur's hands shook. " And if I don't sign?"

Clara moved in, her face right next to his. She was so close he could smell the scent of her perfume.

It was like a flashback to the past, to the Clara he used to know. The one who would touch her forehead to his and whisper softly, "We'll get through this together."

For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Then she smiled. And the smile was wrong.

"Arthur, listen," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I have a connection at St. Mary's, you see. I know the director, Dr. Whitmore. He's a great guy, actually - my accountant plays golf with him all the time." She paused, tilting her head to one side as she continued. "All it would take is a single phone call, a brief conversation, and your mother's spot in the private ward would be gone. She'd be transferred to Ward C, just like that."

Arthur went cold.

Ward C - it's the public ward, you know, the one that's always having problems. It's a place where people go in, but sometimes they don't come out again. There's just something about it that doesn't feel right.

"You wouldn't."

Clara reached out and gave Arthur's cheek a slow, condescending pat

"Look, I don't want to have to do this," she said, "but you're not giving me any other options. So here's the way it's going to go: you're going to sign this, and then you're going to walk out of here. And if you do that, I won't make that call." She stopped for a moment, letting her words sink in. "It's simple, really. Clean. Everyone gets what they want."

Her smile got a little sharper, a little meaner.

"Well, almost everyone, anyway. You're not exactly going to be the winner here."

She stood. Smoothed her skirt.

"You have thirty seconds."

Julian glanced at his Patek Philippe watch and let out a low whistle.

"Time's ticking away, friend," he said with a grin. "I've got a table reserved at Le Ciel for 9 o'clock, and I wouldn't want to keep my dinner waiting - a perfectly cooked steak doesn't wait for anyone, after all."

Arthur looked at the papers. Looked at Clara. Looked at Julian's gold chain catching the light.

Then he picked up the pen and signed .

Clara quickly grabbed the papers and blew on the ink to dry it. She didn't even glance at him, just kept her focus on what she was doing.

"Hey, can you please head out the front door in about two minutes? And don't forget to grab your trash on the way out, okay?"

The rain hit like a slap.

Arthur stumbled onto the sidewalk, soaked in seconds. Water ran down his face, as he stood there with a plastic bag holding two shirts and a photograph of his mother.

Then his phone buzzed.

Hospital: Mr. Vance, your mother's condition has deteriorated. Surgery moved up. Payment of $47,000 required by midnight.

Four hours. $312 in his account.

"He shook his head, his voice trembling. 'No,' he whispered, the word repeating over and over - 'no, no, no, no...' "

He pressed his palms against his eyes. Tried to think. Couldn't. Tried to breathe. Couldn't do that either.

Then something pinged before a translucent blue screen materialized in the air in front of his face Glowing and Floating as Rain passed through it.

[Ding!]

[Host detected. Emotional threshold reached.]

[Infinite Cashback System... ACTIVATED.]

[For every dollar you spend, the host gets a cashback that's 100 times that amount.]

[Starter Bonus Deposited: $20,000,000.00]

Arthur took a step back and his heel got caught on the curb, almost making him fall.

"What in the world...?" He slapped at the screen, but his hand went right through it. "What's going on here? What is this thing?"

He swiped again. And again. His fingers cut through the blue light like it was smoke.

The screen pulsed.

[I'm here to change your financial life with amazing rewards. When you spend money, you get even more back. It's real, and you can check your account to see the money for yourself.]

Arthur stared at it. Then he laughed. A wet, broken, ugly sound.

"Yeah. Sure. Okay." He wiped rain from his eyes. " I'm hallucinating. I'm standing in the rain, my wife just dumped me, my mom's dying, and my brain snapped. Cool. Cool cool cool. This is fine. I'm just having a psychotic break."

He turned away. Started walking.

The screen just hung there, floating in the air right in front of him, hovering right in his face.

"Back off!" he yelled, swatting at the air. But his hand just went right through it. "I mean it, get out of here! I don't want you anywhere near me - just leave me alone!"

[Your mom is set to have surgery in 3 hours and 47 minutes, but there's a problem - if we don't pay, she will be transffred]

Arthur froze.

He stood there, frozen, as his breath caught in his throat, and his hands fell limply to his sides.

"Leave her alone," he whispered urgently. "Don't even think about using her, I'm warning you."

[Here are the numbers: we have $312 in the bank, but we need $47,000. That means we're missing $46,688.]

Arthur's jaw tightened. Rain dripped off his nose. His whole body was shaking, and he didn't know if it was the cold or the fear or the fact that he was standing on a sidewalk talking to a glowing rectangle.

He muttered, his voice barely audible,

"You're not real." The words trailed off, and he repeated them, this time with a hint of desperation, "You're not really here."

[Starter Bonus available: $20,000,000.00. Press ACCEPT to claim.]