The 900 Billionaire Dollar Heir

Chapter Five - Payment Successful

“What's going on here?” His voice thundered. 

Daniel Morrison's sharp eyes swept across the scene, taking in every detail. 

His gaze moved from the supervisor's bleeding lip to Duane's clenched fists, then down to the Black Gold Card lying on the floor near the wall.

"I'll ask one more time," Daniel said, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority. "What is going on here?"

The supervisor's face lit up with relief. He stepped forward quickly, ignoring the blood on his lip, his voice eager and obsequious.

"Mr. Morrison, thank goodness you're here. This is a very serious situation." He gestured wildly at Duane. "This man's mother has been receiving treatment in our ICU without paying a single cent. One of our doctors," he shot a venomous glance at the doctor still standing nearby, "took it upon himself to authorize continued care despite knowing there was no payment."

Daniel's expression remained neutral. 

"Continue."

"When I came to rectify the situation and move the patient out of the ICU, this man," the supervisor pointed at Duane with disgust, "claimed he could pay. Then he produced that." He pointed at the Black Gold Card on the floor. "A fake Black Gold Card. He's trying to deceive the hospital, Mr. Morrison. He's trying to scam us with a counterfeit card."

Daniel's eyes moved to the card on the floor. He walked over slowly, his polished shoes clicking against the tile, and bent down to pick it up.

He held it up to the light, turning it over in his hands, examining it closely.

The matte black surface was flawless. The gold trim caught the light perfectly. The Pinnacle Reserve logo was embossed with precision that would be nearly impossible to replicate.

Daniel felt a jolt run through him.

He'd seen Black Gold Cards before. 

He knew what they looked like, the weight of them, and the subtle details that made them unique.

And looking at this card now, he genuinely could not tell whether it was real or fake.

If it was a counterfeit, it was the best counterfeit he'd ever seen.

He turned to face the supervisor, the card still in his hand. "Has anyone attempted to verify this card by actually using it?"

The supervisor blinked, caught off guard. "Well, no, but –"

"Why not?" Daniel's voice was sharp now. "Why hasn't anyone let this man pay yet? Is swiping a card really so complicated that it requires a meeting in the hallway instead?"

The supervisor's face flushed. "Mr. Morrison, with all due respect, the card is obviously fake. This man couldn't pay five minutes ago, and now he suddenly has one of the rarest credit cards in the world? It doesn't make sense."

"Then swipe it." Daniel held out the card. 

"Swipe it and prove it's fake. If it's declined, then you're right and we call the police. If it goes through..." He let the sentence hang in the air.

The supervisor's eyes widened slightly. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

The supervisor was certain the card was fake, absolutely certain, and the moment it was declined, he would be vindicated. Everyone would see that he'd been right all along.

"Of course, Mr. Morrison." The supervisor's confidence returned. He took the card from Daniel's hand and walked to the payment terminal near the nurse's station. "Let's end this charade right now."

Duane stood completely still, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands were still shaking from the adrenaline of hitting the supervisor, but now a different kind of fear crept in.

What if the card didn't work? What if there was some mistake, some error, some reason the payment wouldn't go through?

The supervisor swiped the card through the terminal with a flourish.

He entered the amount: one hundred thousand dollars.

Then he pressed confirm.

The terminal beeped.

Everyone held their breath.

The screen flashed green.

PAYMENT SUCCESSFUL.

For a moment, nobody moved and nobody spoke. The words on the screen seemed impossible.

The supervisor stared at the terminal, his face going pale. "That's... that's not..."

"Not what?" Daniel's voice was ice-cold now. "Not possible? Not what you expected?"

The supervisor's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. "But... but he couldn't pay before. He showed up in bloodstained clothes. He looks like..."

"Like what?" Daniel stepped closer, and despite being shorter than the supervisor, he somehow seemed to tower over him. 

The supervisor's eyes went wide with panic. "I – I"

The supervisor didn't get the chance to finish speaking, before Daniel's hand connected with his face. 

The slap echoed through the corridor.

Daniel's hand had moved so fast that most people didn't even see it happen. One moment he was standing there, calm and composed. The next, the supervisor was stumbling backward, clutching his other cheek now, shock written across his face.

"You're fired," Daniel said quietly. "Clear out your office and leave the premises within the hour. If I see you in this hospital after that, I'll have security escort you out."

"Mr. Morrison, please –"

"Now."

The supervisor looked around desperately, searching for support, for someone to defend him. But the security guards had taken several steps back. The nurses were looking at the floor. Even the hospital administrator was avoiding eye contact.

Finally, the supervisor turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped, his earlier arrogance completely gone.

Daniel turned to Duane, and his entire demeanor changed to reverence. 

 He carefully picked up the Black Gold Card from where it had fallen and held it with both hands, like it was something sacred.

"Sir," Daniel said, his voice respectful now, almost humble. He bowed his head slightly as he extended the card toward Duane. "Please forgive the terrible treatment you've received. This card... there are only ten people in the world who possess one. Your wealth is beyond measure. You should never have been treated this way."

Duane took the card, still processing Daniel's sudden shift in attitude. "Thank you."

"No, sir. Please don't thank me." Daniel said, in a sincere tone. "I should be the one thanking you for allowing me to correct this injustice. Someone of your status should never have had to endure such disrespect." 

He glanced toward the ICU room where Duane's mother lay, then looked back at Duane with genuine concern. "Your mother will receive the absolute best care this hospital can provide. I will personally oversee her treatment. Whatever she needs – the finest surgeons, the most advanced equipment, private rooms, round-the-clock care – it's all at your disposal. Cost is no concern whatsoever.”

Within minutes, a team of the hospital's best surgeons had been assembled. Duane watched through the window as they wheeled his mother into the operating room, her pale face disappearing behind the surgical doors.

He leaned against the wall and let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding for hours.

She was going to live. She was going to be okay.

His hands were still shaking, but now it was from relief rather than fear

He pulled out his phone and dialed Maya's number. He had to tell her to stop trying to raise money, that he'd already paid for everything, that Mom was safe, that she didn't need to keep begging people for help anymore.. 

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.

No answer.

Duane frowned and tried again.

Still no answer.

He tried a third time, his concern growing with each unanswered ring.

Finally, on the fourth attempt, someone picked up.

"Hello?"

It wasn't Maya's voice. It was Gloria's.

"What –" Duane's grip tightened on the phone. "Why do you have my sister's phone?"

"Oh, Duane." Gloria's voice was calm, almost pleasant. "I'm glad you called. I wanted to talk to you anyway."

"Where's Maya?"

"She's fine. She's right here with me, actually." There was a pause, and Duane heard muffled sounds in the background. "I have to say, I understand now. Your sister has been running around begging everyone she knows for donations, even complete strangers. Word has spread everywhere now. Everyone knows your mother is critically ill. I feel terrible about the whole misunderstanding."

Duane's jaw clenched. "So you finally realized," he said quietly. "You finally understand I wasn't lying to you.”

For a brief moment, he actually thought she might apologize and that she might feel remorse for what she'd done. 

"Yes, I understand completely now," Gloria said, her voice almost cheerful. "Which is why I felt so terrible about everything. Your sister was so desperate to raise funds that I wanted to help her. So I found her a very effective way to raise the money she needs."