THE ORPHAN WHO INHERITED BILLIONS

Chapter 5

 

Alexander was still standing outside The Golden Terrace with Sophia when her phone rang. The screen showed Frank Collins's name, and she hesitated before answering.

"Sophia, thank God you picked up!" Frank's voice was high-pitched and panicked, loud enough for Alexander to hear every word. "We need your help. Right now. It's an emergency."

"What's wrong?" Sophia asked, frowning.

"Vincent's card got declined. The whole bill got declined. His dad cut him off or something – we're stuck here and they won't let us leave!"

Sophia's face went pale. "What do you mean they won't let you leave?"

"The manager has security guards at every exit!" Frank was nearly crying now. "The bill is $108,000, Sophia. They're saying they'll call the police if we can't pay."

Alexander's eyes widened. $108,000 for dinner? He'd worked for months without making that much money.

"Frank, calm down," Sophia said, already walking toward the restaurant entrance. "How much do you need?"

"Vincent managed to scrape together $8,000 from his emergency account, and a few others pooled their money for another $20,000. We still need $80,000. Sophia, please, your family has money. Can you help us?"

Sophia stopped walking, her hand pressed to her forehead. "Frank, I don't have $80,000 just lying around."

"But your dad's business—"

"I have maybe $20,000 in my account that I can access right now," Sophia interrupted. "That's it."

Alexander watched as she ended the call and stared at the restaurant doors with genuine fear in her eyes.

"This is insane," she whispered. "Vincent ordered the most expensive items on the menu for everyone, including rare wine that costs thousands per bottle. How could he be so irresponsible?"

They walked back inside to find chaos. Vincent sat at the head of the table, his usual arrogance replaced by sweaty panic. Two large security guards stood near the exits while an elegant woman in a manager's uniform supervised the situation.

"Please, there has to be something we can do," Vincent pleaded with the manager. "My father will transfer the money first thing Monday morning."

The manager, Ms. Catherine Wells, shook her head firmly. "Sir, this is The Golden Terrace, not some college diner. We don't operate on IOUs or promises. The bill must be settled tonight."

Frank looked up desperately as Sophia approached. "Sophia! Did you bring your card?"

"I can cover $20,000," Sophia said quietly. "But that's all I have access to."

Vincent's face crumpled. "That still leaves us $60,000 short. We're screwed. My dad is going to murder me when he finds out about this."

Angelo Ross, another student at the table, was literally shaking. "My parents will disown me. They specifically told me not to spend more than $200 tonight."

Ms. Wells checked her watch impatiently. "I'm giving you fifteen more minutes to resolve this situation before I call the authorities."

It was then that she noticed Alexander standing quietly behind Sophia. Her expression immediately shifted to disgust.

"Excuse me," she said coldly, "but staff members are not allowed in the dining area during service. You need to return to the kitchen immediately."

Alexander blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't play dumb with me," Ms. Wells snapped. "You're obviously one of our busboys or dishwashers. I can smell the grease from here. Get back to work before I have security escort you out."

Vincent actually laughed despite his panic. "That's Alexander. He's not staff – he's just poor. Smells like it too, right?"

"Even worse," Ms. Wells said with revulsion. "Sir, you'll need to leave immediately. This establishment has standards, and your presence is disturbing our other guests."

Alexander felt the familiar burn of humiliation, but something was different this time. He thought about the documents he'd signed, the bank card Lorenzo had given him, the fortune that was now legally his.

"Actually," Alexander said calmly, "I'd like to help with the bill."

The entire table erupted in laughter. Frank was practically in tears. "Alexander, dude, unless you've got $60,000 stuffed in that smelly shirt, I don't think you can help."

"Yeah, right," Vincent wheezed. "What are you going to do, pay with tips from your delivery job?"

Angelo joined in mockingly. "Maybe he's got a secret trust fund we don't know about!"

Even Ms. Wells smirked. "Sir, I highly doubt someone in your... circumstances... could assist with a bill of this magnitude."

Alexander reached into his wallet and pulled out a sleek black card. It was heavier than normal credit cards, with Lorenzo Benedetti's name embossed in gold letters.

"I'll take care of the remaining balance," Alexander said, handing the card to Ms. Wells.

The laughter died instantly. Ms. Wells stared at the card suspiciously.

"This is ridiculous," she said. "There's no way this card has anywhere near the required funds."

"Only one way to find out," Alexander replied evenly.

Ms. Wells marched to the payment terminal, clearly expecting the card to be declined so she could throw Alexander out. She swiped the card and punched in $80,000.

The terminal beeped. Approved.

Ms. Wells frowned and checked the receipt. Her eyes widened, and she quickly ran to her office computer to verify the account details.

When she returned five minutes later, her entire demeanor had changed. Her face was pale, and she was practically trembling.

"Mr... Mr. Rivera," she stammered, "I am so terribly sorry for the misunderstanding. Your card has been processed successfully."

The table sat in stunned silence. Vincent's mouth was hanging open.

"That's impossible," Frank whispered. "Alexander, how the hell do you have $80,000?"

Ms. Wells leaned close to Alexander, her voice barely audible. "Sir, forgive me for asking, but your account balance... it shows over two billion dollars. Are you... are you related to the Benedetti family?"

The question hung in the air like a bomb. Alexander said nothing, but his silence was answer enough.

Ms. Wells immediately straightened up, her professional mask slipping back into place. "Mr. Rivera, please accept my sincerest apologies for the earlier confusion. The Golden Terrace would be honored to comp your entire meal and provide you with our VIP membership."

Vincent finally found his voice. "Two billion dollars? That's impossible! Alexander is a broke college student!"

"Apparently not as broke as you thought," Sophia said quietly, staring at Alexander with a mixture of amazement and confusion.

Frank was shaking his head in disbelief. "This doesn't make sense. Alexander, where did you get that kind of money?"

Before Alexander could answer, Vincent stood up aggressively. "This is bullshit! There's no way poverty boy here is richer than me. That card is probably stolen or fake."

"Vincent, sit down," Sophia warned, but Vincent was beyond reason.

"No! I'm not going to sit here and pretend that this smelly loser suddenly became a millionaire!" Vincent grabbed Sophia's arm roughly. "And you! You followed him outside like some kind of groupie. What's wrong with you?"

"Let go of me," Sophia said firmly, trying to pull away.

Vincent's grip tightened. "Maybe you need to remember who actually belongs in places like this and who doesn't."

That's when Alexander moved. In one fluid motion, he grabbed Vincent's wrist and twisted it until Vincent cried out and released Sophia.

"Don't touch her," Alexander said, his voice deadly calm.

Vincent swung wildly at Alexander, but Alexander ducked and landed a solid punch to Vincent's stomach. Vincent doubled over, gasping.

Angelo and two other students rushed to help Vincent, but Alexander was ready. Years of working physical jobs had made him stronger than these pampered rich kids. He dropped Angelo with an uppercut, then grabbed the third student and slammed him against the wall.

"Anyone else want to put their hands on Sophia?" Alexander asked, standing protectively in front of her.

The remaining students backed away, staring at Alexander like they were seeing him for the first time.

Ms. Wells cleared her throat nervously. "Perhaps we should call this evening concluded. Mr. Rivera, your table is always available here at The Golden Terrace."