THE PHOENIX HEIR: RISE OF THE SCORNFUL TRILLIONAIRE

004 THE FLEX

CHAPTER 4

Alex stared at his himself in the mirror. The delivery driver in wrinkled uniforms was gone. In his place stood someone who looked like he belonged in places that used to throw him out.

He wore a charcoal Tom Ford suit that cost more than three months of his old salary. His hair was cut sharp, styled. The scruff shaved clean. Even the way he stood looked different. His shoulders and chin were firm and straight.

"Better," Thomas said, adjusting his own tie. "Now you look like a Kane."

They'd spent hours transforming him. Private tailor. Exclusive barber. Alex kept waiting for someone to laugh, to tell him this was a joke.

Instead,Thomas pulled out a black card and handed it to him.

"What's this?"

"Your advance. It's unlimited. Get used to spending money, Alexander. You have more than you could spend in ten lifetimes."

The card was heavier than normal plastic. His name engraved in silver: ALEXANDER KANE.

Alex turned it over in his hands. Yesterday he had $127. But today he had more than enough.

His stomach twisted with the thought.

"You look like you need a drink," Thomas said. "I know a place."

"Yeah." Alex pocketed the card. "I really do."

Apex was the kind of club Alex used to deliver packages to. He'd use the service entrance, never the front. Never even dreamed of going inside.

Now Thomas walked straight past the line wrapped around the block. The bouncer took one look at them and unhooked the velvet rope without a word.

Inside bottles with sparklers were being paraded through the crowd like trophies. A manager appeared instantly, and led them to the VIP section. An elevated platform overlooking the entire club. The best view. The best seats.

From up here, he could see everything. Including the couple at a table on the main floor below.

Emma wore a tight silver dress, laughing at something Ryan said. They were celebrating, he had closed a deal. He always brought her here when he wanted to show off.

Alex's hand tightened on his armrest.

"Want to leave?" Thomas asked quietly.

Alex watched Ryan signal a waiter with a snap of his fingers. Rude and dismissive. The same way he'd snapped at Alex few hours ago.

"No," Alex said. "I don't think I do."

Ryan's voice boomed across his section.

"Champagne! Bring me your best bottle. Actually—" He looked around, wanting an audience. "Bring bottles for everyone at these three tables." People nearby turned interestedly.

The waiter nodded and mentioned something about $2,400. Ryan waved his hand like money was nothing. The bottles arrived with sparklers and fanfare. People at the nearby tables cheered raising their glasses to Ryan.

"To the good life!" Ryan stood, soaking it in.

Emma clapped and smiled, but her eyes were scanning the room. Then they landed on the VIP section. Landed on Alex. She froze. Squinted through the lights like she was seeing a ghost.

"Ryan," she grabbed his arm. "Ryan, look up there."

Ryan barely glanced up. "What?"

"That man. Does he look like—"

Ryan laughed, sitting back down. "Like your homeless ex? Baby, he's probably sleeping under a bridge right now. Stop thinking about him."

But Emma couldn't stop staring because it was him.

Alex signaled the VIP manager. The man appeared immediately. "Yes, Mr. Kane? How can we serve you?"

"What's your absolute best bottle?"

The manager's eyes lit up. "We have Château Margaux 1787. Half a million per bottle. We only have—”

"I'll take one bottle," Alex said calmly, "For every person in this club."

The manager blinked. "I'm sorry, sir. Did you say one bottle per person?"

"Yes, you heard me right."

"Sir, that's approximately 200 guests. The cost would be—"

Alex slid the black card across the table. "I'm aware. Charge it."

The manager took the card with shaking hands and disappeared. Thomas leaned back with a slight smile. "You just spent $100 million on wine."

"Is it too much?"

"For a Kane? It's just pocket change."

Five minutes later, the music lowered. The club manager's voice came over the speakers, announcing an exceptionally generous guest who'd made the largest single purchase in the establishment's history. One bottles of $500,000 vintage for every single guest. The club erupted in screams and cheers as a spotlight swung to the VIP section and landed on Alex. Every eye in the club turned toward him.

Ryan's face went from confusion to disbelief to pure rage. Emma's mouth fell open.

Alex lifted his glass slightly. He didn't smile or wave. He just acknowledged them and then turned back to Thomas and continued their conversation as if nothing had happened. Staff flooded the club with bottles in glass cases, handled with white gloves.

People were screaming, crying, recording on their phones. Someone started chanting his name. Alex didn't react. Just sipped his drink while Ryan's $2,400 flex looked like a child's birthday party in comparison.

Emma let go of Ryan's arm entirely, staring up at Alex with something between shock and hunger.

She stood without a word and moved toward the VIP stairs. Two security guards stepped in front of her immediately.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. VIP access only."

"No, you don't understand. I know him. That's—"

She caught herself. "I need to speak with him."

"Ma'am, please step back."

Emma craned her neck, trying to see past them. "Alex! Alex, it's Emma!" Up in VIP, Alex heard her voice. He paused mid-sentence and looked down.

Their eyes met across the distance. Emma's face was desperate, pleading the same face that had looked relieved to be rid of him. Alex held her gaze for seconds, then looked away and continued talking to Thomas like she wasn't there. Like she didn't exist.

Ryan shoved past Emma, got in the guards' faces.

"That guy's a fraud! His name is Alex Carter. He's a broke delivery driver! He probably stole from my girlfriend's family!" More security appeared, telling him he needed to leave, but Ryan kept shouting about checking IDs and scams.

Alex stood and walked to the VIP railing. Looked down at Ryan and the entire club went silent.

"Do you think," Alex said quietly, voice carrying in the hush, "the entire Williams family combined could afford my wristwatch?"

He held up his wrist. The Patek Philippe caught the light. $2.5 million on his wrist alone. Ryan's mouth opened and closed with no words. Alex turned his gaze to Emma. She looked like she was about to cry.

"I'm sorry," he said with perfect politeness. "Do I know you?"

Emma's face crumbled. "Alex, please—"

"Security," Alex said calmly, sitting back down. "Ban them. Permanently."

Guards grabbed both of them. Ryan shouted threats about investigations as he was dragged toward the exit, his voice fading as the doors closed behind them. Alex picked up his drink. The club was staring at him. He ignored them all.

Outside, Emma sat on the curb, her face looking pale. Ryan was pacing around, making angry calls that went to voicemail.

"How?" Emma whispered. "How does he have that kind of money?"

Ryan stopped pacing. "It's fake. Has to be. That foolish boy stole credit cards or something."

But Emma remembered the way the staff treated him. The way his eyes looked when he said do I know you. That wasn't fake. That was real power. And she'd thrown it away.

"Tomorrow," she said. "Tomorrow I need to find out the truth."

Ryan snorted. "Tomorrow I'm calling the cops."

Inside the club,Thomas leaned toward Alex. "Feel better?"

Alex thought about it. About Emma's face. Ryan's rage. The way they'd been removed like trash.

"Yes," he said. "I really do."

Thomas raised his glass. "To tomorrow. When the real show begins."

They clinked glasses.