The Billionaire’s Lost Heir

Humiliated

Chapter 1

"My money, Mr. Miller. You promised." Ethan wiped the sweat and dry cement from his forehead, leaving a grey stain on his face. 

Miller stood by his pickup truck, flipping through a clipboard. He didn't even look up. "Money? For what? Sleeping on the job?"

"I finished my shift, I worked throughout the night." Ethan stepped closer. His work boots were very dirty and stained with mud. "I hauled bricks for fourteen hours straight. I need my wages from the last three weeks. You said you'd pay me today."

Miller finally looked up, twisting his face into a sneer. "You're lazy. I watched you slack off all night. You do nothing, and you expect a handout? You think I’m running a charity here?"

"I'm not asking for a handout, I'm asking for what I earned!" Ethan’s voice broke. He hated how desperate he sounded, but he didn't care anymore. "Please. My mom’s hospital bill is due today. If I don't show up with cash, they’ll cut off her treatments."

Miller tossed the clipboard into the truck and slammed the door. "Not my problem."

He turned to walk away. Ethan reached out and grabbed his boss’s arm. "Wait, please, you can't just…"

Miller spun around fast. Slapping Ethan hard across his face. 

“How dare you touch me with those dirty hands.” 

Ethan fell and held his cheeks as pain shot through his face, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. He blinked, holding himself from crying.

"Get off my site!" Miller yelled, pointing a finger at him. "You're fired! Don't come back, or I'll call the cops and tell them you tried to steal from me!"

Ethan lay in the dirt for a long second. His jaw throbbed with every heartbeat. He wanted to get up and fight. He wanted to tear Miller apart. But he had no time. He pushed himself up, spitting bloody saliva into the dust. He had to get cash as soon as possible.

Forty minutes later, Ethan parked his rattling scooter outside the Grand Plaza Hotel. He didn't have time to go home and wash. He just threw a bright yellow delivery jacket over his dirty, cement-stained t-shirt. He grabbed the large brown paper bags of expensive seafood from the scooter's storage box. He was sweating, his jaw was swelling, and he was exhausted, but he ran inside anyway.

The hotel lobby was big and well-decorated. Rich people in designer suits and extravagant dresses stood around drinking coffee and talking quietly.

Ethan kept his head down. He walked fast, hugging the bags to his chest and the only thing on his mind was to just drop it off at the front desk, get the tip, and get out.

Then, somebody stepped right into his way. Ethan tried to stop, but he slipped and slammed hard into the person.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, you trash!"

Ethan looked up, and his stomach dropped to the floor.

Standing right in front of him was Damien Cross. Damien wore a dark blue suit that cost thousands. His hair was perfectly styled, and a gold watch flashed on his wrist. But what made Ethan freeze was the girl hanging onto Damien's arm. Kim, Ethan’s ex. Her hair was long and glossy, and she wore a tight red dress and designer heels. She took one look at Ethan and wrinkled her nose, stepping back like he smelled like rotting garbage.

When

"Ethan?" Kim let out a harsh laugh. "Ugh. What are you doing here?"

She had dumped him six months ago. She called him one night and told him she couldn't deal with his 'poor man mindset' anymore. Now, here she was, clinging to the guy who had made Ethan's college life a living hell.

"Well, well, well." Damien grinned, showing his perfect white teeth. "If it isn't the garbage boy. Delivering food now? I guess construction doesn't pay enough to keep the rats out of your apartment."

"Please, move, Damien," Ethan muttered. "I'm working."

He tried to step to the side, but Damien shifted, blocking his way again.

"In a hurry to make your little pennies?" Damien smirked. He reached out and slapped the paper bags right out of Ethan’s hands.

"No!" Ethan lunged, but he was too late.

The bags hit the floor with a loud smack. The plastic containers inside broke and the expensive lobster, rice, and dark soy sauce spilled everywhere, dirtying the white floor.

The lobby went quiet, people turned to look, pointing at him and calling him names as if they didn't see what just happened. 

"Oops," Damien said, not sounding sorry at all.

Kim laughed, and it sounded mean. "Still clumsy and useless, Ethan. Seriously, you make a mess everywhere you go. It's embarrassing."

Ethan stared at the ruined food. That order was worth over two hundred dollars. The delivery app would take it straight out of his empty bank account. He would be in negative numbers. His breathing fastened, and his hands closed into tight, hard fists as he slowly looked up at Damien's smug, punchable face. He wanted to swing, break Damien's nose and wipe that smile off forever. 

However, Damien saw his fists and his grin grew wider. "What? You gonna hit me? Do it. Swing. I'll have the police here in two minutes, and they'll lock you up for a long time."

Ethan froze. He was burning with rage, but Damien's words made him calm down. Jail meant he couldn't work, no money and no money meant his mom would die. He unclenched his hands, but he was slightly shaking and glaring at Damien. 

"That's what I thought. A coward. Just like always." Damien reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a stack of money. He peeled off five-hundred-dollar bills. "You look desperate, man. Here, consider it a tip."

Instead of handing the cash to Ethan, Damien opened his fingers. The bills fluttered down, landing right in the puddle of soy sauce and crushed lobster.

"Pick it up," Damien said softly. "Get on your knees like a good dog."

"Damien, don't," Ethan whispered, staring at his face.

"Do it," Damien snapped, pointing to the floor. "Or I guess you don't care about that sick, dying mother of yours. What a shame. She raised a loser. Maybe she's better off dead."

Ethan swallowed hard. He wanted to kill him but the image of his mom in that hospital bed, hooked up to beeping machines, flashed in his mind. His pride wouldn't buy her medicine, nor could his dignity pay for her treatments. Slowly, feeling sick to his stomach, Ethan bent his legs, and kneeling in the middle of the mess.

 Laughter erupted around him. Kim was giggling into her hand, leaning into Damien. The wealthy strangers watched him, shaking their heads in disgust.

Ethan reached out with a shaking, dirty hand and began to pick up a wet hundred-dollar bill. Then another. He kept his eyes locked on the floor, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood again.

Right then, his pocket vibrated. Still kneeling in the spilled food, Ethan pulled out his cheap phone and looked at the caller ID. It was the City General Hospital.

His heart thumped. He swiped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear with his shoulder. "Hello?"

"Mr. Cole," a cold, tired voice said. "This is the billing department of the city general hospital. Your grace period is over."

"I know, please give me a little time," Ethan whispered, clutching the wet cash. "I just need a little more time. I'm getting the money…i promise."

"I'm sorry, sir. You have until the end of the week to pay the balance in full. If you don't, we will terminate your mother's life-saving treatments."