The 900 Billion Dollar Heir

Chapter Two - The Necklace

The party was in full swing when Duane arrived.

Music pounded through the massive hall, crystal chandeliers glittering overhead like a thousand mocking stars. 

Men in expensive suits stood in clusters, champagne glasses in hand, while women in designer dresses laughed at jokes he couldn't hear.

Duane pushed through the crowd, his clothes still stiff with dried blood and his hands trembling at his sides.

He felt every eye turn toward him as he moved deeper into the room.

"Is that... blood?"

"Oh my God, look at him."

"Who let him in here?"

The whispers followed him like shadows. A woman in a red dress wrinkled her nose and stepped back as he passed. 

A man in a silver tie laughed behind his hand, nudging his companion.

Duane kept walking. He didn't care what they thought. He didn't care what they said. All that mattered was finding Gloria and getting the money.

His mother had less than twenty-four hours.

"Well, well, well." A deep voice cut through the music. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Francis stepped into his path with a drink in one hand and a smirk on his face. 

Francis looked good in an expensive suit, slicked-back hair, the easy confidence of someone who'd never had to beg for anything in his life.

"You look like hell, Duane." Francis's eyes traveled over Duane's bloodstained clothes, his disheveled hair, the cuts on his face. "Did you really think showing up here like this would work? That Gloria would see you and suddenly feel sorry for you?"

Duane's jaw clenched. "Move."

"Or what?" Francis stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper only Duane could hear. "You'll bleed on my shoes? Please. You're embarrassing yourself. You're embarrassing the family name. Just leave before you make this worse."

"I said move."

Francis laughed and stepped aside with a mocking bow. "By all means. Go make a fool of yourself. I'll enjoy watching."

Duane pushed past him, his heart pounding in his chest.

He spotted Gloria across the room, surrounded by a group of her friends.

All of them were laughing at something someone had said.

 She looked beautiful in a white dress that probably cost more than his rent, her hair swept up, a glass of champagne in her hand.

She looked happy.

Duane walked toward her, and the crowd parted around him like he was diseased.

"Gloria."

She turned at the sound of his voice, and her expression hardened immediately. 

She didn't look surprised. She looked annoyed.

 Then her expression smoothed into cold amusement.

"Duane." She looked him up and down slowly, deliberately, as if she was examining something unpleasant stuck to her shoe. "Wow. I have to say, I'm actually impressed. You've really outdone yourself this time. Full costume, fake blood – or is that ketchup? The desperate look in your eyes, it's almost convincing. Did you practice in the mirror?”

Laughter rippled through the group around her.

"It's not ketchup," Duane said quietly. "It's my mother's blood. And mine."

Gloria's smile didn't waver. "Sure it is."

She turned to her friends with a smirk. "Can you believe this? He actually came here dressed like this thinking I'd fall for it.”

They laughed even harder.

Duane took a step closer. His voice was low, stripped of everything except desperation. "I don't care what you think of me. I don't care if you believe me or not. Just transfer the money to me right now. Please. That's all I'm asking"

Gloria tilted her head, studying him like he was an insect under glass. "You really want the money that badly?"

Her smile was cold and sharp. 

"Yes."

"How pathetic,” she spat. Then her voice rose, making sure everyone could hear. "You know what? I want to see just how low you'll go. Kneel.”

The word hung in the air between them.

Duane stared at her. "What?"

"You heard me." Gloria's voice was light, almost playful, but her eyes were ice-cold. "Kneel down and beg me for it. Right here. In front of everyone. Crawl if you have to. Prove to me just how desperate you really are. Maybe then I'll consider it.”

The room had gone quiet around them. 

Everyone was watching the scene playing in front of them, their drinks and conversations all forgotten. They couldn’t afford to miss this show.

Duane's hands curled into fists at his sides. Acid burned in his throat. 

Beg her? Kneel like a beaten dog in front of everyone to her? Is this the aim she asked him to come here? To trample him into the dirt for public entertainment?

He was her husband! What did she take him for?

But……His mother's face flashed in his mind – pale, unconscious with blood on her temple. 

The doctor's voice echoed in his head: Twenty-four hours.

A wry, helpless smile flickered across Duane's lips. He dropped to his knees.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Someone let out a shocked laugh. Duane heard Francis's voice somewhere behind him: "Jesus Christ."

Duane looked up at Gloria, still on his knees, his humiliation burning through him but he had to continue to speak. "Please. Give me the money. My mother is dying."

The entire party had gone silent. Everyone was watching them now, waiting to see what Gloria would do.

Would she give alms to her poor and obedient husband?

Gloria looked down at him for a long moment. She tilted her head slightly, studying him like he was an insect she was deciding whether to crush.

Then she laughed. "No."

The word was soft but brutal. Instantly, someone at the party snickered.

Duane suddenly stared up at her in disbelief. "What?"

"I said no, Duane. Are you deaf on top of being pathetic?” Gloria's voice was louder now, making sure everyone could hear. "I truly didn't expect you would be this shameless, Duane. First, you lie to me about your mother being in a car accident. Then you show up here covered in fake blood, making a scene. And now you're kneeling in public, begging me for money like some kind of beggar." 

She looked back down at him and there was no pity in her eyes. Then, she shook her head slowly. "You disgust me. You don’t deserve to be my husband at all. I won't spend another cent on you. Not one more cent."

Duane's head hung low, and an uncontrollable, desperate, bitter laugh spilled from his lips.

He felt the part of him that had believed in her, that had loved her, that had thought she might have some humanity left in her die at that moment.

He stood up slowly, his legs shaking from pure rage. Every muscle in his body was tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

When he spoke, his voice was tight with barely controlled fury. “ You don’t deserve to be my wife, either. I want a divorce.”

The crowd fell silent at these words.

Gloria's eyebrows rose. Shock flickered across her features. She seemed taken aback that Duane actually dared to ask her for a divorce.

She stared fixedly at Duane. She was finally taking a serious look at what he was thinking.

Then, she laughed mockingly, laughing until she was almost in tears.

"Oh, even at this moment, you're still scheming for money. You think I don't know how this works? You're the economically disadvantaged party, Duane. In a divorce, I'd have to give you money. That's what this is really about, isn't it?"

"I don't want your money."

"Liar." The word was a slap. "That's all you've ever wanted. That's the only reason you ever married me in the first place."

Duane met her eyes. "The necklace. The one I gave you when we got engaged. My mother's necklace. Give it back to me, and you'll never see me again."

Gloria stared at him for a moment, then laughed again. "Even now, you're pretending to be noble. Fine. I'll give you back that cheap necklace. But don't come crawling back to me asking for money when you realize what you've given up."

She snapped her fingers at her assistant, who was standing nearby. "Bring me that cheap necklace Duane gave me. The one I tossed in my bag months ago."

The assistant hurried over and pulled out a simple silver chain with a small pendant from Gloria's designer handbag. She handed it to Gloria carefully.

Gloria took it with two fingers, holding it like it was contaminated.

"You know, I never liked this thing. It was ugly. Cheap. Just like you." 

She dropped it into his open palm like it was trash.

"There. Take your precious necklace. Take it and get out of my sight.”"There. Take it. And I hope you're happy with your choice." 

She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. "I'm filing for divorce right now. It'll be final within the hour. Congratulations, Duane. You're free. Don't come crawling back when you realize what a mistake you've made.”

Duane closed his hand around the necklace, feeling the cool metal press into his palm.

He swept a cold gaze over Gloria and the rest of the crowd, then walked away without a single backward glance.

 *** 

The hospital corridor was empty when Duane returned.

He walked toward his mother's room with heavy steps, the necklace clutched tight in his hand. 

He'd failed. He'd done everything. He'd begged, humiliated himself, given up his marriage and it still wasn't enough.

His mother was going to die, and he couldn't save her.

"Duane!"

He looked up to see his younger sister running toward him down the corridor, her face streaked with tears. 

Maya was twenty, and still in college so he knew she had left school to be here.

"Maya." His voice cracked. "I tried. I tried everything, but there's nothing I can do. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Maya threw her arms around him, holding him tight. "It's not your fault. It's not your fault." She pulled back, wiping her eyes. "I'm going to try to raise money too. I'll ask my friends, my professors, anyone who might help. Don't give up yet, okay? Just don't give up."

She squeezed his hand once, then ran back down the corridor, already pulling out her phone.

Duane watched her go, feeling more helpless than he'd ever felt in his life.

He looked down at the necklace in his hand. It was the last piece of his mother he had left. 

She'd given it to him on his eighteenth birthday, told him to save it for someone special.

He'd given it to Gloria three years ago, believing she was that person. How wrong he'd been.

Duane turned the necklace over in his palm, studying it in the harsh hospital lights. His mother had worn this every day when he was growing up. It had always seemed so simple, so ordinary.

But as he held it now, something caught his eye.

There was a tiny seam along the edge of the pendant. It was almost invisible, but there.

His breath caught.

With trembling fingers, he pressed his thumbnail into the seam and twisted.

The pendant opened.