THE RISE OF JAKE MILLER

chapter eleven

Chapter Eleven.

Arthur couldn’t enjoy the party any longer, he hated being there. He turned to Melissa and muttered, “Pack your things. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Melissa frowned and leaned closer, whispering, “But babe, the party’s just getting started.”

Arthur hissed back, louder this time, “Let’s go.”

All eyes were on them. Not wanting to make a scene, Melissa forced a tight smile and stood up, waving goodbye to her friends.

As they reached the door, Saint-James called out, “Losers!”

The crowd erupted in laughter. Arthur clenched his fists, jaw tight, and stormed out.

As they stepped outside, Arthur’s anger boiled over.

“This is all happening because of you, Melissa!” he snapped, striding toward his car.

“How is it my fault?” she shot back, hurrying after him.

He stopped abruptly and spun around, making her stumble. His eyes burned with fury.

“If you hadn’t dated that idiot, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

Without waiting for her reply, Arthur yanked the car door open, slid inside, and slammed it shut.

“Arthur, wait for me! What am I supposed to do?” Melissa cried, her voice breaking.

But he ignored her, starting the engine and speeding off, leaving her stranded at the curb. In frustration, she kicked at the air, tears stinging her eyes.

There was no way Melissa could go back to the party. She ran her fingers through her hair, pacing in frustration before finally deciding to call William to come rescue her.

Meanwhile, Arthur arrived home, only to be caught off guard. His father was already back from his three-day trip.

Mr. Benson was pacing the living room, but stopped the moment he saw his son.

“Where are you coming from?” he barked.

“Party,” Arthur replied carelessly.

“Party?” His father let out a cold chuckle. “Alright, that’s fine. Now hand me the car keys.”

Arthur’s eyes widened.

“Dad, that’s my….”

“I said, give me the keys,” his father snapped, cutting him off.

When Arthur hesitated, his father yanked the keys straight from his hands.

“You’re not allowed to use the car for now. Consider it a punishment for wasting money at that restaurant the other day.”

“Dad, you can’t do this to me!” Arthur shouted, but his father only hissed in annoyance and walked away. “Dad! Dad! Dad!” he called after him, but there was no response.

Arthur kicked the floor in frustration.

“Fuck… shit… man,” he muttered under his breath.

He raked a hand through his hair, pacing. How the hell am I supposed to get to school now? This was bad, really bad.

But then a bitter thought came to him. It’s not like Jack even has a car.

Arthur rubbed his temples, his jaw tightening. A cold promise formed in his mind: Jack was going to pay for this. He would make sure Jack regretted this night.

Back at the party, it had finally wound down, but everyone seemed to be crowding around Jack. Some guests begged for pictures, and after posing for a few, he’d had enough.

He made his way over to Katy with a smile. “Happy birthday,” he said warmly.

“Thank you,” Katy replied, giving him a quick side hug. “I can ask my driver to drop you off if you’d like.”

Jack shook his head. “Never mind, I’ll be fine.”

“It’s no trouble,” Katy pressed, but Jack still insisted. “Really, it’s fine.”

With that, he said goodbye and headed home. Later, after a shower, Jack sat down at his desk. That’s when he noticed it, lying neatly on the table: a sleek black card and a confidential letter from Mr. Black.

Jack hesitated, staring at the envelope. Instead of opening it, he dropped onto his bed, resting his hands behind his head.

He still couldn’t believe this was his reality. Just a short while ago, he’d been nothing more than a broke man on the streets. Now, with a single card, he had the power to buy almost anything he wanted.

A laugh escaped him as he covered his face with both hands. What a life.

The next morning, Jack was jolted awake by a call from Saint James.

“What’s up, man?” Jack mumbled, rubbing his face.

“Meet me at the usual spot,” Saint James said flatly.

Jack sat up, sleep instantly leaving his eyes. “Any problems?”

“Let’s just meet,” came the curt reply before the line went dead.

Jack wasted no time. He got dressed quickly and headed to the small restaurant where they always met.

Inside, he spotted Saint James already at a table, sipping tea. Jack slid into the seat across from him.

“Tea?” Saint James offered.

Jack shook his head.

Saint James gave a slow nod, then leaned forward.

“So… what happened last night?”

Jack smirked, leaning back casually. “What happened?”

“Come on, don’t play dumb,” Saint James pressed. “The diamonds, the expensive clothes, the luxury, where the hell did all that come from?”

Jack chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an air of nonchalance.

“I told you, man, it’s the lottery.”

Saint James narrowed his eyes.

“You can sell that lie to everyone else, but not me.”

Jack only smiled, unfazed.

“It’s the lottery, bro. That’s all you need to know.”

He reached across the table, slid Saint James’s cup toward himself, and took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving Saint James’s face.

Meanwhile, in the far corner of the restaurant, a woman sat quietly behind dark sunglasses.

She stirred her coffee slowly, her posture relaxed, but her eyes never left Jack. Hidden by the shade of her lenses, she studied him carefully.