The Hidden Billionaire

CHAPTER 5

“Yo!...he's awake!”

And the duo rushed to his bedside, two familiar shadows stared down at him like a man watching his funeral. Tape, holding a portable scanner, and Lily, gnawing at a banana with excitement.

Lily leaned over dramatically. “Don’t freak out, but you’ve been so unconscious that we began planning your funeral.”

“What happened to me?” Victor muttered.

“You passed out in the van,” Lily said. “And then this strange woman, the one we saw at Julius' estate, showed up. Said her name was Isabella and just walked past security like she owned the place.”

Tape nodded. “She put her hand on your chest, whispered something like she was speaking to God or herself. Next thing we know, machines went haywire, and you started stabilizing.”

Victor sat up, there was no pain or burn of cancer eating him from the inside. His injuries had miraculously disappeared, and even his skin looked like Zeus’ baldness; smooth and sleek. He felt healed, like the blind Bartimeus.

All around him, hospital machines hummed and beeped.

“I thought you’d be awake by now,” The door creaked open and Kate stepped in with a bouquet of flowers. “There’s a woman downstairs who was asking about you. Strange aura… people thought she was mental, but she vanished before security could speak to her.”

Victor’s heartbeat skipped. “Isabella?”

Without wasting time, he threw off the sheets and rushed out. His legs carried him strong and fast down the hospital corridor, Tape and Lily scrambling behind him.

He burst into the reception, eyes scanning every corner.

She was gone.

Just as he disappointedly returned, he saw a security guard lean in and whispered to his colleague. They both looked at him. Then one of them pulled out a folded newspaper, pointing to Victor’s face on the wanted section.

Victor froze.

The guard stepped forward, hand moving toward his holster.

“Sir, wait a minute!”

But before the confrontation escalated, Tape’s rusty minivan screeched up in front of the entrance with Lily behind the wheel.

Victor leapt inside, and Tape pulled him in just before Lily peeled off into traffic, laughing like a madwoman.

Inside the rattling van, Victor pulled out his phone and a wave of alerts greeted him: bank notifications, asset transfer approvals, encrypted confirmations.

He stared.

Seven offshore accounts, each now filled to the brim with zeros. Shares, property deeds, and business holdings… legally his.

He was a billionaire.

Tape peeked over his shoulder. “Yo, is that … ? Are those real numbers or just your fantasy banking app?”

Victor didn’t respond. Happiness nearly killed him. 

From being a low-life, terminally ill fugitive to this wealth beyond comprehension. Lord Hardy’s plan had worked. The file had gone through the president's hidden money, now under Victor’s name.

Then, another ping.

A message from Hardy:  

“Come celebrate in our yacht's hangout at pier 39. 

5PM. Don’t be late.”

Victor stared at it, heart thudding. He looked up at the two chaotic figures beside him, his unlikely companions, and said with a faint smirk, “Have you two ever been on a yacht?”

“No!” They chorused. 

Victor knew he was cooked. There was no way these two would ever blend in with the elites.

When they arrived at the Pier, Victor, wanting to keep a low profile was dressed like an Urban destitute, his clothes looked lowly and size too big and we're already missing a button.

The guards looked ready to turn him away until one of them glanced at Victor’s name on a list and stepped aside. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Victor West.”

Victor nodded but all eyes shifted when he stepped in.

He was an unknown. The wrong skin tone, the wrong face for the right crowd.

People stared, whispered, assumed.

“Who ordered a peasant?” someone muttered near the bar.

Victor ignored it.

Tape and Lily rushed to the Martini section.

Victor caught sight of Lord Hardy near the bar, raising a glass in his direction. Next to him was his Chief, Bush, with his sculpted face. 

While trying to blend, his eyes scanned the yacht and landed on someone familiar. Red velvety dress, hips like they were carved from jealousy and a smile that could heal Medusa.

She stood on the upper deck stairs, flanked by her father, Lord Hartley, and a tall man in an expensive suit. Her makeup was flawless, her dress tighter than her morals.

Vera.

Her tiny voice rang through the air like a crime.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my ex-husband.”

She gave a dramatic scoff. “You crashed this party too? What’s next? Delivering the drinks?”

The man beside her wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “Babe, is this the guy you used to cry about?”

Victor lowered his head in shame.

Lord Hartley stepped forward, mock surprise on his face. “Victor West. The disgrace of the year. I should have known it was your kind still loitering in places above their class.”

Vera laughed. “You look tired, Victor. Poverty doesn’t suit you.”

Victor was still and calm.

But just as Lord Hartley opened his mouth again, a new voice cut in.

“I think he looks perfect.”

It was Isabella. She slipped her arm into Victor’s and smiled at him, then turned to the trio. “If you'll excuse us now.”

Vera’s expression faltered; her smile cracked.

He turned and walked away with Kate.

Victor and Kate moved toward the upper deck where Lord Hardy waited, flanked by elite power brokers.

As the sun dipped below the waterline, a flat-screen TV flickered near the bar.

Breaking News:

“Suspicion has been raised about the true identity of Senator Greek as unconfirmed reports suggest that the real Senator Greek, has been presumed dead or kidnapped...”

Whispers filtered in, murmurs swept through the yacht as every word on that TV broadcast had turned speculation into fire.

Lord Hardy stood at the center of it all, calm but calculating. He noticed Victor watching and raised his glass again.

Victor smiled faintly.

A tray clattered nearby and someone shouted. Victor turned sharply to see Lily chasing a waiter, yelling, “He took my shrimp!” Tape stumbled behind her holding a champagne bottle like a microphone.

Some guests laughed nervously while some looked horrified. Guards moved in.

Victor’s eyes narrowed and he turned to Isabella.

“Why are you here?” He folded his arms. “And why did you heal me?”

She finally turned, eyes catching him with a kind of quiet intensity that unnerved him.

“Because I like you, Victor,” she said. “I couldn't watch you die.”

“You didn't want me to die? And you sold me out to Julius. Your fake intel that almost got me killed?” Victor scoffed

She didn't flinch. “I misled you, yes. I needed to test you to see who you really are when pushed.”

Victor scoffed. “Thanks to your loyalty test which got me robbed and knocked unconscious.”

“I wanted to see your decision when everything was at stake,” she said, voice barely above the waves. “You chased the truth, that’s why I healed you.”

Victor said nothing, only studied her. A part of him was beginning to believe her and another part doubted her loyalty.

Isabella stepped even closer. “I could’ve let you die, Victor. But I didn’t. I gave healing to your body.”

Victor stared deep into her eyes and said.

“Thank you, Isabella.”

A few steps back, Vera's pair of narrow eyes followed them. Despite standing beside her new lover, she hated the fact that the misery of a man, her ex-husband, had shown up at an elite hangout. It wasn’t enough that he appeared more wretched than an underpaid slave, now, he had some exotic woman looking at him like he was the most important thing after fresh air.

Vera hated it.

And yet, she couldn’t look away.