THE SECRET BILLIONAIRE

Chapter 11

The very air at the run–down apartment of Mr. Bobby froze as Thompson Montclair, the billionaire oil landed— offering fortunes to Carl. Anyone would have jumped at this offer, grab it before it slips off but there stood Carl, his expression flat and unreadable like he'd simply heard Thompson speaking about dashing out cheese!

Mr. Bobby swallowed, his wrinkled pants which were held with rope rather than a belt slipped below his waist, the broadcast from his radio fading in his ear. Yesterday, this poor looking man, Carl, had come to rent his apartment. He came with nothing but a scuffed bag but paid immediately while most tenants would still ask for discounts.

His eyes squinted on Carl. Was it luck? Because what could make a billionaire, a whole Thompson Montclair! Comes to his cramped apartment for this man. Or what could his identity really be?! Maybe the worn out ensembles are just a phony facade for his actual identit...

His thoughts were suddenly jammed by Carl's response. He choked, holding his heart as though Carl's response had given him a terrible heart attack.

“I accept your gratification but I'm not going to accept any of those things.” Carl said casually, like he was dismissing cheap toys!

A woman sipping water from a glass cup at her door sprayed out water from her mouth, coughing loudly.

Her eyes were wide like a stunned cat. “What! This must be a joke!” He gasped, her voice raw with disbelief.

Many people will have jumped at this life changing offer. They could have even crumpled to their knees, rolled on the floor and started gratifying the giver but Carl had just turned down a lifetime opportunity like it was peasant.

Then, the air buzzed with murmurs.

“Some called it bad luck.”

“An African kid said Village people are after Carl— A heavy curse on his head.”

“Some said he's going to die wretched.”

Carl simply smiled, small. A sharp smirk that reveals little but it was loud, only to those accustomed with Billions. They don't know... They don't know the man standing right in front of them had Trillions tied to his name.

And Thompson Montclair, what he'd offered him was just 0.001% of the massive wealth Carl controls in secret. The mysterious CEO of UmbraCorp Sixteen, the gigantic organization— the master of all firms. UmbraCorp have their hands dipped in all areas of businesses; Tech, software development, Banking and finance, Science and even Shadow ops…

The smile on Thompson Montclair vanished like gas in the air. He wasn't expecting the response. He knew this tone...the tone which Carl used. It was the kind of tone he'd used when discarding filthy extracts from the refinery. It was that kind of tone that Moguls used when speaking about billions but this man..he was just a peasant. Someone who needed help and he had just offered one willingly but he'd tossed it like Millions were nuts.

‘Only powerful people can heal with just a few touch and only a man with monumental assets to his name can turn down millions. Carl has a hidden identity and he's going to find out so he played along.’

Thompson took a step closer, a forced smirk splitting his shocking expression halfly.

“Mr. Carl..I know this is small..or maybe I came too late to acknowledge your kindness. How about adding an extra $3 million dollars?”

“Mr. Thompson is technically begging to enrich this poor dude! This is unbelievable!" Someone gasped.

Carl shook his head, his smile dropping to serious expression.

“You don't get it, Mr. Thompson. I merely helped you. This isn't about money. If it's money, I have...” Carl caught himself before he spilled secrets. “...I have only helped you and my ideology is; “When I help, I don't expect returns.” He said.

Thompson Montclair sighed, his billions felt useless, his name which every always sings like it's a melody felt like zero. For the first time, someone had turned down his offer..a mouthwatering one at that!

He caught the tone of finality in his tone and he didn't bother to press on so as not to piss him off. Sighing again, he said, fishing out a slick black card from his pocket.

“This is my pass card. It's like my mirror. Wherever this card is, I'm technically there. You can have access to anything, anyplace in the city with it and you won't have to pay.” He pressed on, his voice calm, nearest to pleading.

Carl sighed, tired. He knew the man is not going to step an inch away without gratifying him. He stepped forward and collected the card and simply shoved it in his pocket.

Thompson Montclair's face bloomed with a wide smile. It was the same feeling he used to have when his yearly revenue showed up in his account. Carl collecting the card from him was like a blessing but a flicker of reluctance was evidence in his eyes that Carl didn't accept his bigger offer. “I'm pleased to have you accept the little I offered. Thanks, Mr. Carl...ermm.. I'll appreciate it if i can have your digits.” He requested and Carl called out his number.

Immediately Carl stepped back into his cramped room which had just a small bed, his bag, a few clothes, the kind that screamed old and cheap, but behind these small lives, he's a man that controls an empire.

Immediately he settled into the bed, his phone buzzed, it was his assistance calling, Seraphina was on the line. Carl knew exactly why she was Calling— to feed him daily updates about his assets as usual.

Seraphina has been the one handling his business, carrying the weight of the Trillions he controls from the shadow.

He picked the phone without hesitation. “Seraphina,” he called, his tone rich and smooth. “How good are you handling things?”

“Good morning, Master Carl. I'm handling things just how you wanted it, Boss.” Her voice came, smooth as unadulterated honey and professional.

Carl nodded gently and settled onto the bed. “Fed me, Seraphina.” He simply said.

“The $500 million dollars allocated to WHO for world environmental sanitation would be disbursed today. But the general director is requesting for a one–on–one interview with you. He wants your face in the media as the largest backer.” She said,

Carl heaved, then said. “That's not going to be possible. Tell him my identity is strictly not involved with the donation.”

“And there is something you need to know, boss.” Seraphina's voice became lighter, softer and cheerful “I think you might have just forgotten that UmbraCorp Sixteen would be 5 in the next six days and many dignitaries from around the world would be gracing the anniversary. Even the Kessington family, your wife's family, are willing to see you, the CEO, after the last $20 millionaire investment in their company.

I thought they're now aware you've been the one supporting their business while they thought you're still away serving sentence.”