THE SECRET BILLIONAIRE

Chapter 6

Stepping out of Van Cleef, Carl walked into a scene. People were watching with hearts in their mouths, some with hands laid on their head, some with jaws falling apart and eyes wide in horror.

People crowded a convoy, the first car, an Aston Martin DB11. Securities in black suits tried to move push the crowd back. The street buzzed with murmurs.

Carl wondered what was happening but he didn't linger. He continued walking. Maybe some Celebrities had shown face at Van cleef but the whir of an Ambulance added to the chaos in the air.

Carl's attention pricked. He turned, the box containing the heritage of Bloom resting in his hand.

“What is going on?" He stopped.

Celebrities have funny and unbelievable ways of making an entrance. He remembered watching a massive concert where the main celebrity host arrived in a casket. Maybe one had decided to Grace Van Cleef in an ambulance.

But when the Securities pushed the crowd back, Carl saw it. It wasn't a celebrity showing up but an old man dying.

He was on the floor, his chest rising up and down like one whose soul was getting drained out of his body. Blood splashed all over his white suit.

Carl narrowed his eyes on the man. He saw what ordinary eyes can't visualize. Like he's a walking X–ray. He saw the man's heart pulsing abnormally, how his blood was moving through his vein. It wasn't streaming like normal human blood flow. It was dragging. Like his blood had turned viscous, similar to a honey slipping through a pipe.

“This man has just 3 minutes to die. He might not make it.” Carl didn't assume. He knew it

He turned to a woman next to him who laid her hand over his head in panic.

“How long will it take to get to the nearest hospital here?" He asked.

“St. Huxley Healthcare trust. It'll take 20 minutes.”

“It'll be too late.” Carl muttered.

"Did you just say something?" The woman raised a brow.

"Yeah. I mean that man. He's not going to survive it.” He said, watching the paramedics roll the man into the ambulance.

The woman stared at Carl in confusion. Before she could say anything, Carl moved. He pushed through the crowd, the box clutched to his body.

“Fall back!” A bodyguard hollered.

“That man is not going to survive it. He has just 3 minutes. Three minutes to die! His blood flow is on short flow, his heart muscles has been blocked by Clots and that's a clear symptoms of Heart attack. Something needs to be done. Right now.”

The bodyguard stared down as Carl like he'd just blurted jardons.

The security rolled his eyes with disdain and anger. “And who are you? Get lost dude!" He wanted push Carl but he simply sidestepped and he missed.

Carl remembered the words of old Jones; To always offer help even if it means you'll have to do the impossible.

With that thought, Carl hurried. Past the guard, past the paramedics. He grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open. He jumped inside the ambulance.

Gasps rippled.

With a quick moves of finger, like an expert ancient magician, his finger jabbed on the man's chest, touching vital points. It was a only three precise hit and before the Securities could get to the Ambulance, the average old man jerked up, thick blood sputtered from his mouth. He looks around like he'd just returned from the land of death.

His pale face was back to life and his breathing rate had became normal. Everyone watched in surprise.

Paramedics stared like they'd seen the most miraculous healing techniques. No injection. No fluid. Just quick touch and the man who was gasping for breath earlier now looks normal.

The man, Thompson Montclair sensed blood rushing through his veins faster, his strength returning time three.

“Young man, who are you?" He asked Carl.

“Don't eat red meats and Margarine. Bye.” Carl simply said and jumped down from the ambulance. He disappeared in the crowd.

Securities rushed Thompson Montclair, the owner of Montclair oil and gas. One of the most powerful man in the city.

“Find that man! He must not leave this place." He instructed.

*****

At a grand ballroom, the soft clinking of glasses rippled in continuous waves, laughter and hums of conversations mixed in the ambient. Expensive wines with dishes that cost more than some people's rent spread on a table covered with white linens.

Guests in resplendent gowns and tux that cost fortunes walked inside the ball room. Banquet staffs in uniform moves gracefully with silver trays carried with deliberate accuracy.

This day is all about Elira Kessington.

It is not just her 23rd birthday but the her company's 7th year anniversary.

Known businessmen, investors that pilot the city's economy, city movers, friends and staff of Kessing Enterprise were all present to wish her well.

Sarah Kessington, her mother moved through the crowd, donning a burgundy gown that flowed to the floor like feather. She greeted guests with smiles on his face. Her daughter had made her proud. Seven years and she'd pushed the family's name to a top. Seven years of success, seven years of wins and triumphs.

In the sea of faces were circles of men in expensive outfits that'd came with lavish gifts to capture Elira's heart. Those were men who had their eyes on Elira.

On a raised platform is a giant cake resting on a table at the side.

The voice of the announcer blasted through the speaker, shattering the din.

“Ladies and gentlmen. And I give you Elira Kessington!"

The crowd stood in ovation, palms jammed in applause, heads turned to the direction of a stair laced with a red carpet that spread across the room.

And Elira Kessington stepped down slowly in a scarlet crimson designer gown that hugged her tight, accentuating her curves. Her hair swept back in soft curls. Each steps she carried was spectacular and noteworthy. She carried herself with grace, heels clicking the stairs like a countdown. Her face beamed with a smile and it seemed at that moment, the world hold its breath to watch her.

Men drooled, women were jealous of her. Not just for her beauty but her achievements.

Immediately her heels kissed the last stairs, Sarah, her mother walked to her, smiling and chest heavy with pride and admiration. She wrapped her arms around her in a motherly hug, not too tight to ruin her smooth outfit.

Immediately Elira stepped on the stage, the hall fell quiet. She held the mic. like gun, ready to deliver bullets to the hall.

Then,

Carl walked inside.