From Death To Wealth

Chapter Six

Where was Bruce supposed to get a million dollars?

The mayor had given him two impossible choices: pay the fine or spend ten years in prison. He thought of his papa in the hospital, who relied on him for everything. Who would take care of him if Bruce were locked away?

Bruce knew he had to decide quickly before the mayor changed his mind. Swallowing his pride, he spoke up, his voice barely steady, “I’ll pay the fine, sir.”

The words felt unreal, and his response took everyone by surprise. The others had expected him to choose the jail term. Surely he didn’t have the money to pay such a massive fine, but here he was, saying he’d pay.

Vincent snickered, biting his bottom lip. “You? Pay a million dollars? In your wildest dreams. You can’t even afford decent clothes, thief.”

Kyle laughed, nudging Vincent with an amused look. “I give it a week. No way he’ll last. The guy’s got nothing, how’s he going to pull off a million?”

Tessa rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Honestly, just take the jail term. It’s not like you’ve got anything to lose or one million dollars to pay.”

Sadie smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I think he believes he can pull it off. This is just… embarrassing. Miserable.”

“Or are you planning to rob a bank this time?” Vincent remarked, eliciting a fleet of laughter from the others.

Mayor Henderson let out a dry chuckle, looking down at Bruce with an expression somewhere between amusement and hatred. “Fine. If you say you’ll pay, then I expect you to pay. But I won’t be lenient if you are not able to pay, understand?”

Bruce shook his head. “Yes, sir. I’ll do whatever it takes to pay. I can work extra and pay it all in installments.”

The mayor narrowed his eyes at Bruce, barely hiding his distaste. “You have one month to pay. Not a day more. If you miss a payment, the fine is off, and you’ll be facing that prison sentence anyway, understood?”

Bruce swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

The mayor waved a hand dismissively, glancing around at the others. “Alright, that’s it. You’re all free to go.”

Bruce turned to grab a few of his torn clothes to leave.

Kyle laughed, loud and mocking. “Can’t wait to see how this all goes down. Maybe we’ll read about you in the news…‘local nobody tries to pay a million and fails miserably.’”

Tessa flipped her hair, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, Bruce, you’re so delusional. This isn’t some heroic movie where the poor guy wins the lottery.”

Vincent scoffed, shaking his head with a smirk. “One month? He can’t even afford lunch most days. Who’s he kidding?”

Sadie’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she called after him, “Maybe ask your papa if he’s got a spare million tucked away somewhere. Oh wait, he’s already a burden on you, isn’t he?”

Bruce kept walking, refusing to look back. All his effort, every late night, every sacrifice, gone, destroyed by the power of the Richardson family and the mayor.

As he stepped out of the building, the cold reality hit him. He had no money, no plan, and one month to raise a million dollars. But he couldn’t let them win, not while his father needed him.

On his way, Bruce decided he’d visit the health center tomorrow to check on his papa. When he got back to the small container he called home, he lay down but couldn’t sleep. His mind replayed everything that had happened that day.

He’d been humiliated at work. They’d cut his pay, set him up, accused him of theft, stripped him down to half-naked, and beaten him badly, all because they’d set him up. And now he had to somehow pay a million dollars or spend ten years in jail.

The next morning, his phone rang, waking him up.

“Hello?”

“Good morning. Am I speaking with the son of Collins?” a man's voice asked.

“Yes, this is Bruce.”

“Mr. Bruce, I’m calling from the local Health Center. Your father is–”

“What?” Bruce felt a sudden weakness sweep over him as he barely managed to ask, “What happened to my papa?”

The man requested that he come to the health care center immediately before quickly ending the call.

Bruce sat up, his hands trembling as he tried to steady his breathing. He couldn’t waste any time.

Pulling on his worn-out shirt and the only pair of jeans he owned, he grabbed his keys and stuffed his phone into his pocket.

Without even bothering to comb his hair or clean up, he slipped on his scuffed sneakers and rushed out the door, heading straight to the health center.

He rushed inside the health center around five minutes later and asked the office clerk for directions. She led him to the section where he found the room, only to be asked to wait outside.

After seven minutes, the door opened, and a doctor stepped out of the ward.

Bruce rushed over to him. “Doctor! How is he?”

The male doctor gave him a puzzled look. “Who are you…?”

“I’m Collins's son, Bruce,” he said quickly. “I got a call and came as fast as I could. I can show you the call if you want.” He held out his phone to show the number.

The doctor nodded finally, a serious expression settling on his face. “Bruce, I need you to prepare yourself.”

Bruce shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He could hardly bear to think of the pain his father must have gone through. “What is going on?”

The doctor took a slow breath. “We did everything we could, Mr. Bruce, but he didn’t make it. I’m so sorry. Your father passed away a little while ago. He died of high blood pressure and overthinking.”

Bruce's expression went blank.

After a moment, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground and passed away.