Rise of the Masked King

The sun was fading behind the cracked windows of the dormitory when Anthony walked in, his steps heavy, his face pale with exhaustion. His shirt clung to his body, damp with sweat, the kind that came not from heat but from humiliation. The laughter of his classmates still echoed in his ears—mocking, sharp, cruel.

He dropped his backpack on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, his hands trembling. For hours, he had endured their taunts about his mother, about how she was “rotting in a cheap hospital bed,” and how he “still begged for bus fare.” Every word stung, but he had swallowed it all, silently praying for the day he could prove them wrong.

He closed his eyes for a moment, longing for rest before heading to the hospital. But just as his head tilted back, his phone vibrated on the table. The screen flashed Emergency Line. His chest tightened.

He hesitated—just for a second—then answered.

“Hello?”

The voice that came through was sharp, cold, and without pause. “Anthony, this is Dr. Kenneth. I’ve been trying to reach you. Your mother’s condition has worsened.”

Anthony sat upright, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. “Worsened? What—”

“I don’t have time for questions,” Dr. Kenneth interrupted. “You owe the hospital $300,000 in unpaid bills. According to policy, treatment can’t continue until the balance is cleared. You’ll also need to deposit $100,000 immediately if you want us to proceed with emergency care. If payment isn’t made within the hour, we’ll be forced to remove her from life support.”

“Wait, please—”

But the line went dead before Anthony could finish.

He stared at the screen, frozen, the words echoing in his mind like a curse. Remove her from life support. He grabbed his jacket, his phone, and ran out of the dormitory without locking the door.

The hospital was fifteen minutes away, but the journey felt endless. Every passing second clawed at his chest. When he burst through the hospital doors, the sight stopped him cold—two nurses were wheeling his mother into the emergency ward. Her face was pale, her eyes barely open. The tubes that connected her to the machines trembled with each shallow breath.

“Mom!” he cried, trying to reach her, but a nurse blocked his way.

“Please, sir, you can’t go in right now.”

Dr. Kenneth appeared beside him, his arms crossed, his expression calm in a way that felt almost cruel. “You came quickly,” he said. “Good. I hope you also came prepared.”

Anthony blinked through tears. “Please, doctor, just save her. I’ll find a way to pay—”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Dr. Kenneth cut in. “This hospital runs on policy, not pity. If the balance isn’t cleared within the next hour, we’ll have to discontinue treatment.”

“You’re talking about her life!” Anthony’s voice cracked.

Dr. Kenneth didn’t flinch. “Then find the money. You have fifty-five minutes left.”

He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the sterile hallway.

Anthony dropped to his knees, his palms slapping the cold tiles. “Please!” he cried, his voice breaking. But the doctor never turned back.

His phone rang again. He wiped his eyes and saw Olivia Carson on the screen. For a fleeting second, hope sparked in him—his girlfriend, maybe she had finally decided to check on him, maybe she could help.

He stepped outside, the cool air hitting his face as he answered. “Olivia… thank God you called. I—”

“If you think I’m calling because of your mother, you’re wrong,” she said, her tone icy. “I don’t care what happens to her.”

The words struck him like a knife. He stood there, speechless.

“Why are you calling then?” he managed to ask.

“I need money,” she said flatly. “There’s a party tonight—Jennifer Luis’ birthday. I need a new dress and the new YL bag. You know the one.”

Anthony felt his throat tighten. “Olivia, I don’t have any money right now. I was actually hoping you could help me. My mom—”

“Help you?” she snapped. “Are you insane? You can’t even take care of yourself!”

“Olivia, please, she’s dying. The hospital needs—”

“Don’t start that again,” she interrupted, her voice rising. “You’re useless, Anthony. I’m tired of this broke-man drama. If you can’t give me what I want, we’re done.”

Before he could respond, the line went dead.

He stared at his phone in disbelief, the silence around him heavier than ever. The woman he had loved—the only person he thought cared—had just chosen a designer bag over his dying mother.

He sat down on the cold bench outside the emergency unit, his hands covering his face. For the first time in years, he felt truly alone.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “Excuse me, sir… your mother is asking to see you.”

He looked up to see a nurse standing beside him, her expression kind but sorrowful. Without a word, he followed her into the dimly lit room.

His mother lay there, frail and ghostly, her breathing shallow. Machines beeped quietly beside her. Anthony bit his lip hard, trying to hold back the tears.

“Anthony…” Her voice was faint, barely more than a whisper.

“I’m here, Mom,” he said, moving closer and taking her trembling hand.

She studied his face for a moment, her tired eyes softening. “Something’s wrong. I can see it.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing, Mom. You need to rest.”

“Tell me,” she insisted weakly. “Please.”

After a long silence, he finally told her everything—about Olivia’s call, about the hospital bills, about Dr. Kenneth’s threat. Every word seemed to drain him further.

When he finished, she exhaled slowly and said, “That girl… she’s poison. Stay away from her, Anthony. She’ll never understand your pain.”

He nodded, his eyes wet. “I just wanted to believe she cared.”

“I care,” his mother said softly. “And I always will. Promise me you won’t beg her again.”

“I promise,” he whispered.

A nurse came in to adjust the IV line. The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly—thirty minutes left. Panic stirred in his chest. He had to do something.

“I’ll be back, Mom,” he said, standing quickly. “I just need to get the money.”

She smiled faintly. “Be careful, my son.”

Anthony left the room, wiping his tears as he rushed out of the hospital.

When he reached home, the sight before him made his stomach turn. His stepbrother Jimmy and stepsister Joanna were each standing beside their brand-new Mercedes-Benz cars, posing for pictures. Laughter and camera flashes filled the driveway.

He ignored them and called out, “Where’s Dad? I need to speak with him.”

Before they could answer, a man’s voice came from behind. “Looking for me?”

Anthony turned—and froze. His stepfather, Oscar Patrick, stood there holding hands with Rebecca, his ex-wife and the mother of Jimmy and Joanna. The same woman who had abandoned him and his mother years ago.

Anthony blinked in disbelief. “She’s back?”

Oscar smirked. “Temporary reunion. You know how families are.”

Anthony didn’t care for explanations. “Please, sir, I don’t have time. Mom’s dying, and I need $100,000 for the hospital to start treatment. Please help me.”

Oscar chuckled, glancing at Rebecca. “Did you hear that? He wants me to pay for the woman who ruined my peace.”

Rebecca laughed coldly. “Let her die. She’s been a burden long enough.”

Jimmy and Joanna joined in, mocking him, their laughter slicing through the evening air.

Anthony dropped to his knees. “Please… I’m begging you.”

Oscar folded his arms. “Get up. You look pathetic. Anyway, I already sent you the money.”

Anthony’s heart leapt. He quickly pulled out his phone, opened his banking app—and froze. The notification showed a deposit of $500.

He looked up in confusion. “Sir, this is only $500…”

Oscar turned away, pretending to admire Jimmy’s new car. “Then that’s all you’re worth.”

Anthony’s phone began to ring again—Dr. Kenneth. His stomach twisted. He couldn’t answer, not yet.

He stepped forward desperately. “Please, just $100,000. You send Jimmy and Joanna over $200,000 every month. I’m your son too.”

Oscar’s expression darkened. “Don’t ever compare yourself to them. You and your mother were a mistake I’m still paying for.”

Anthony’s voice broke. “Then give me my share of the family property—the one you and Mom agreed on.”

Oscar burst out laughing, his eyes gleaming with cruelty. “Your share? Maid!”

A maid appeared with a brown envelope. Oscar snatched it, pulled out the documents, and thrust them toward Anthony. “Here’s your share.”

As Anthony reached for it, Oscar’s hand struck across his face. The papers scattered to the ground. Rebecca picked them up, tore them apart, and lit them on fire with a lighter from her purse.

Anthony watched the flames consume every page, every hope.

“Now,” Oscar said coldly, “get out of my house.”

The guards seized him by the arms. His phone kept ringing as they dragged him toward the gate. He didn’t resist; his body felt numb.

Thrown into the street, he lay there for a moment, staring up at the darkening sky. The phone kept vibrating beside him.

With trembling hands, he picked it up and answered.

But it wasn’t Dr. Kenneth’s voice.

“Mr. Anthony,” a nurse said urgently, “your mother is asking for you. Please hurry. If you delay any longer, you might not see her alive.”

The line went dead.

Anthony froze, his breath catching in his throat. For a long moment, the world stood still. Then, with tears burning his eyes, he rose and began to run—toward the only person who had ever truly loved him.