"Oops! The Chicken Boy Is The Billionaire's Son"

Chapter 6: Who Is Dr. Sage?

Nathan stared at the man standing in front of him. The streetlamp cast long, sharp shadows over Dr. Sage Walters’ face. For the rest of the world, this man was a phantom billionaire, a titan who dictated global markets with a single phone call.

For Nathan, he was just Dad.

"Hello, son," Sage said, his deep voice cutting through the chill of the wind. "That was quite a drama, wasn't it?"

Nathan didn't answer right away. He just stood there, his lip bleeding, his cheap jacket stained with melted ice cream and dirt. He felt a sudden, humiliating urge to break down as his father spoke, but he bit the inside of his cheek to stop his jaw from trembling.

Sage closed the distance between them. He didn't offer a hug. Instead, he reached out and gripped Nathan by the shoulders, giving him a firm, solid shake. It was a grounding touch, heavy and deliberate.

"You actually built it," Sage said, looking at Nathan with a rare glint of absolute respect and pride. "I routed the funds, I paid for the server space, the raw materials... but if I'm being entirely honest, Nathan, I didn't think you could pull it off. A fully functioning Quantum-Bridge Machine? At seventeen? I kept funding you because I believed in your drive, but you... you proved yourself worthy today."

Nathan looked down at the asphalt. "They stole it, Dad. Everything I worked for. She just... she gave it to him."

"I saw," Sage said, his tone turning to ice. "And they will pay for it. But first, we handle the business of why you were out here in the dirt to begin with."

Sage raised two fingers.

The security man on his right immediately stepped forward, carrying a slim, matte-black briefcase. He popped the latches. Inside, resting on dark velvet, was a single sheet of heavy black paper with thick golden edges, along with a solid gold fountain pen.

"I am long overdue for retirement, Nathan," Sage said, his voice dropping to a low, serious register. "I sent you to Braxton with nothing, to see if you would sink or swim in a world that only respects money. You swam. You swam, my son. You outsmarted them all. But the trial is over now."

Sage took the pen from the case and held it out.

"Sign the paper," Sage told him. "It confirms you as the sole heir. You won't just be taking control of a company, Nathan. You will be taking control of the world. Wealth beyond anything those children in that auditorium can even comprehend. Access to systems, politicians, and power no one else has. You sign this, and you stop being the scholarship kid. You become a Walters. You become THE Walters."

Nathan looked at the pen. His hand was shaking slightly as he reached out and took it. The metal was heavy and cold.

He leaned over the briefcase. He thought about the Principal’s mocking laughter. He thought about the ice cream hitting his neck. He thought about Amanda’s sneer when she tossed the flash drive at his feet and told him to save his own broke pocket.

Nathan pressed the nib to the paper and signed his name.

As he crossed the 't', a single, hot tear finally escaped his eye. It fell straight down, landing on the black paper right next to his signature. It didn't smudge the ink. It just sat there.. a silent, permanent promise to himself. He was going to ruin them. All of them.

Sage nodded, gesturing for the guard to close the case.

"A new Personal Assistant has already been assigned to you," Sage said smoothly, adjusting his coat. "He will contact you by morning to begin your training. You have a lot to learn about how our family operates."

Sage reached into his inner breast pocket.

"In the meantime, it is past midnight. Which means it is officially your eighteenth birthday."

Sage pulled out a sleek, solid-black metal card and pressed it into Nathan's bruised hand. There were no numbers on it, just a gold magnetic strip and the Walters family crest.

"There's five hundred million dollars loaded on that," Sage said casually, as if he were handing over a twenty-dollar bill. "For your upkeep. Buy some decent clothes. Get yourself a nice car. Stop walking everywhere."

Nathan stared at the piece of metal in his palm. Half a billion dollars. Just for pocket money.

Sage turned back toward the idling SUVs. The guards were already moving to open his door.

"Dad," Nathan called out.

Sage paused, his hand on the door frame. He looked back over his shoulder.

Nathan swallowed hard, the sting of the betrayal suddenly rising up in his throat again. "Have you... have you ever been heartbroken before?"

Sage went completely still. For a moment, the cold, calculating billionaire vanished, replaced by a man who had seen too much of the ugly side of the world. He finally fully acknowledged his crying son.

"There's a quote from a show I used to watch," Sage said quietly, his voice rougher than before. "Umm… a man named Shelby said it. 'Whiskey’s good proofing water. Tells you who’s real and who isn't.'"

Sage turned fully around, his eyes locking onto Nathan's.

"Everyone's a whore, son," Sage said, his words blunt and unapologetic. "We just sell different parts of ourselves. Some sell their time, some sell their brains, some sell their loyalty. She sold hers to the highest bidder."

A cold, dangerous smirk touched Sage’s lips. "But guess who has the money to buy it back?"

Nathan felt a sudden, freezing calm wash over him. The words clicked into place, locking the door on the boy he used to be. He felt motivated. 

"Wanna ride with me?" Sage asked, gesturing to the back of the Maybach.

Nathan looked at the armored convoy, then back down the dark, empty road leading toward Braxton College. He gripped the black card in his hand until the metal edges bit into his skin.

"No," Nathan said, his voice completely steady now. "I'll just walk back."

Sage gave a single, approving nod. “Happy birthday, son!” He climbed into the SUV, and the heavy door slammed shut. The convoy accelerated smoothly, disappearing into the night and leaving Nathan alone on the road.

Nathan stood in the dark for a long time. The wind didn't feel cold anymore.

He looked at the black card in his hand. This wasn't just a new life for him. It was a loaded gun, and he was pointing it straight at the entire college. 

Tomorrow, the world would regret the reason why they chose to pick on him. Starting with Amanda.