The Beggar’s Throne

Jake Sullivan pulled by the collar of his cheap button-up shirt the fabric itchy and tight as he stood in the Carter family’s fancy marble hallway. 

The Carter mansion was massive, polished, and perfect, like it had been built for cameras, not people—sparkling chandeliers, paintings on every wall, and a grand staircase that screamed old money. 

Outside, Lake Michigan shined beside the Chicago skyline. Inside, Jake felt like he didn’t belong. While inside the room, his wife, Amanda Carter, stood in a navy dress that showed off her curvy figure, laughing with her parents’ friends. She hadn’t looked at him all night.

It was Diane Carter’s 60th birthday, and the Carters were putting on a show. The guest list read like a roll call of Chicago’s elite—aldermen, real estate moguls, even a news anchor Jake recognized from Channel 7. Waiters moved around the crowd, carefully carrying delicate, tall glasses filled with champagne, making sure not to spill or drop them, while a string quartet played something classical Jake couldn’t place.

He moved his body slightly from one foot to the other, his shoes which were worn and scratched against the polished floor. His pizza delivery uniform was stuffed in the back of his Honda, wrinkled and out of sight, but with the way people looked at him, it was like he was still wearing it. Every glance from the guests said the same thing: You don’t belong here.

“Jake, stop fidgeting,” Amanda hissed, appearing at his side. Her perfume, fresh and expensive, She didn’t even look at him. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Didn’t know standing still was a crime,” Jake muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. His dark hair fell over his eyes, and he pushed it back, catching a glare from Amanda’s brother, Greg, who stood far away. Greg, in his tailored suit, was holding court with a group of finance bros, probably bragging about his new Tesla.

“It’s not about standing still,” Amanda snapped, keeping her voice low. “It’s about you not even trying. Mom’s birthday is a big deal, and you show up looking like you shopped at a thrift store.”

Jake clenched his jaw. The shirt was from Kohl’s, bought with his last paycheck after he’d missed a shift to drive Amanda to a client dinner. He’d been delivering pizzas for QuickSlice, dodging Chicago traffic for $12 an hour plus tips, while Amanda climbed the ladder at her parents’ law firm, Carter & Associates. Three years of marriage, and he was still the guy they tolerated because Amanda had “slummed it” for love. Now, that love felt like a noose.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jake said. “Not like I had time to rent a tux between deliveries.”

Amanda rolled her eyes and walked away, her heels clicking toward her mother, Diane, diane was standing by a table piled with gifts, surrounded by people who were listening to her and focused on what she was saying. Diane Carter, with her silver-blonde bob and diamond earrings, looked like she’d stepped out of a society magazine. Her husband, Richard, stood beside her, his Rolex glinting as he shook hands with a guy Jake vaguely recognized, Ethan Brooks, some real estate hotshot who owned half the Loop.

Jake’s phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from his sister, Ellie, who was stuck in a hospital bed on the South Side. “Surgery’s scheduled for next month. Docs say $50K upfront. You okay?” His stomach twisted. Ellie’s kidney issues had gotten worse, and his delivery gigs weren’t cutting it. He’d been meaning to ask Amanda for help, maybe a loan from her parents, but maybe tonight wasn’t the right time. Still, he had to try—for Ellie.

The quartet stopped, and Diane clapped her hands, her voice carrying over the chatter. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate this milestone with us!” The crowd applauded, and Jake forced a smile, trying to avoid attention . “Now, let’s see what my wonderful family and friends have brought for the occasion.”

The gift table was a flex. Greg walkes up first, presenting a velvet box with a $400,000 diamond brooch that sparkled. The guests ooh-ed and ahh-ed. Amanda followed, handing her mother a sleek case with a $600,000 vintage Rolex, engraved with Diane’s initials. Richard, gifted a limited-edition Hermès bag, easily $2,000,000. Each present was a jab, reminding Jake he’d brought nothing but himself.

Diane’s eyes turned to Jake, “Jake, dear,” she said, her tone dripping with fake sweetness. “What did you bring for your mother-in-law’s special day?”

The room went quiet. Amanda froze, her cheek turning red. Greg smirked, leaning back with his champagne. Jake’s throat tightened, but he took a step forward, his hands sweaty. He’d practiced what to say, even though he knew it was a long shot.

“Uh, Diane, I didn’t bring a gift like others,” he said, he said firmly despite the eyes boring into him. “But I’ve got a request instead. My sister, Ellie—she needs surgery, bad. It’s $50,000. I was hoping you and Richard could help with a loan. I’ll pay it back, every cent.”

Murmur rippled through the crowd. Diane’s smile vanished, she looked liked she’d smelled something rotten. Richard let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. Greg stepped forward, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

“A loan?” Greg said, grinning like a shark. “You’re out here begging at Mom’s birthday? Man, you’ve got some balls, pizza boy.”

Laughter erupted, loud and cruel. Amanda’s face went red, her eyes darting away. Ethan Brooks raised an eyebrow, sizing Jake up like a bug. Jake’s fists clenched, but he kept his cool, focusing on Diane.

“It’s for my sister,” he said. “She’s family. I thought family helps each other.”

Diane’s lips curled into a sneer. “Family? Oh, Jake, you’re barely that. Amanda’s been carrying you for years. You think we’re your personal ATM?”

The room laughed again, louder. Jake’s ears burned, but he held his ground. “I’m not asking for charity. It's a loan, I'll work and pay you back.”

“Work?” Richard cut in, his voice like a whip. “You deliver pizzas, Jake. You’re an embarrassment to this family. Amanda deserves better—like Ethan here.” He signaled Brooks, who gave a cocky nod. “It’s time she moved on.”

Jake’s heart sank. He looked at Amanda, hoping for even a brief sign of support, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Amanda,” he said softly. “You know Ellie’s sick. Say something.”

She hesitated, then crossed her arms. “Jake, you lied about missing that shift last week. I found out you were covering for your buddy, pocketing extra tips. I can’t keep defending you.”

He felt betrayed, and dizzy as the laughter and clinking glasses became just noise. Diane waved a hand, dismissing him. “We’ll talk divorce tomorrow, Amanda. Jake, you’re done here. Leave.”

Two security guys in black suits appeared, one on his left and one on his right. He didn’t try to fight. He grabbed his jacket and walked out. The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind him. Outside, the Chicago night was cold, and the wind from the lake cut through his thin shirt. His Honda was parked a block away, but he didn’t go there. Instead, he just walked, hearing the Carters’ laughter in his mind.

He ended up at a dive bar on Division Street, nursing a $3 beer. His phone buzzed—divorce papers, emailed from Amanda’s firm. He stared at the screen, numb. Ellie’s text from earlier glowed: You okay? He wasn’t. He was broke, homeless, and alone, kicked out like trash. The Carters had won, and he had nothing.

A woman slid onto the barstool next to him, her presence snapped him out of his thoughts; she looked to be in her 50s, with sharp cheekbones, a fitted black coat, and brown eyes. “Jake Sullivan,” she said, like she’d known him forever. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Jake frowned and wiped his mouth. “Look, lady, I don’t know who you are. And I’m really not in the mood.”

She smiled and slid a sleek black card across the counter to him. His name printed on it in shiny gold letters.

“Vivian Cross,” she said. “Your father, Michael Sullivan, used to control the ports in Chicago. His operation was worth three trillion dollars. It was part of something bigger—the Syndicate. We’ve been tracking you through the GPS on your delivery routes for ten years. You’re his heir, Jake. Are you ready to take your place?”