The Incredible Charlie Maxwell

Chapter 3

When Charlie came to, everything was white—the sheets, the ceiling, the nurse’s uniform. His head throbbed faintly. The nurse noticed his eyes flutter open and smiled softly.

“You fainted,” she said, her voice calm, practiced. “After hearing about your mother.”

The words reopened the wound he’d hoped was a nightmare. His throat felt dry as sandpaper. “She’s… she’s gone?”

The nurse nodded, her eyes heavy with pity.

The door opened, and the doctor walked in with a somber look. “Mr. Grant,” he said, “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. If only you’d gotten the money…”

Charlie turned his face away, his chest hollow. He didn’t want to hear the doctor’s rehearsed sympathy. The fault wasn’t his—it was theirs: his father’s greed, his stepmother’s malice. 

He clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms. ‘One day,’ he thought, ‘I’ll make them regret everything they’ve done.’

The doctor, unaware of the storm in Charlie’s eyes, reached into his coat pocket and handed him a folded note.

 “This was left by your mother,” he said. “Before she passed. She said it was for you—and that it would change your life.”

Charlie took it hesitantly. On the note was a single number, strange and simple, written in his mother’s delicate handwriting.

“You should call it,” the doctor said softly. “That’s no ordinary number.”

Charlie frowned. “What do you mean?”

The doctor leaned closer, lowering his voice. “It’s rumored to belong to the Maxwell family.”

Charlie’s heart skipped. “The Maxwells?”

“Yes,” the doctor replied, almost in awe. “The richest family on earth. Their power isn’t just money—it’s influence. Presidents, billionaires, kings—they all bow to George Maxwell. He’s old now, with no heir, no successor. If your mother somehow had ties to them…” 

He trailed off, shaking his head. “You should make that call immediately, son. That number could rewrite your story.”

Charlie stared at the digits again. They seemed to pulse on the paper like something alive. “And… my mother’s body?”

“You can see her soon,” the doctor said gently. “But make that call.”

Charlie nodded slowly, ready to reach for his phone—when it buzzed first. The name on the screen read: Daniel Franklin. His best friend.

“Hey, man!” Daniel’s voice was tense. “Where are you? I’ve been calling you since morning.”

“I’m dealing with a lot right now,” Charlie replied, not wanting Daniel to know he had just lost his mother, as he knew Daniel would drop everything to be with him.

Daniel sounded impatient. “You better get to campus now. Your scholarship’s under attack. Jacob and his guys are at the Dean’s office claiming you owe them forty grand. They’re trying to get your funding revoked.”

Charlie’s pulse spiked. His scholarship—his last lifeline. If he lost it, he’d lose school, his future, everything. “Forty thousand?” he muttered.

“Yeah, man,” Daniel said. “You know how they are—spinning stories, pulling strings. I’m stalling for time, but you need to come.”

Charlie could hardly think. “I’ll be there,” he said finally and ended the call.

Before leaving, he walked to the cold room to see his mother’s body. The sight of her pale, still face shattered him. He knelt beside her, tears streaming down his face. 

“You promised you’d stay,” he whispered. “Why did you leave me now?” His sobs filled the room, heavy and raw. 

After a long moment, he wiped his face, took the note, and walked out of the hospital—on foot.

He had no money for a taxi, only grief and exhaustion to carry. The afternoon sun was cruel, but he pushed forward, one step at a time.

Halfway to campus, his phone rang again. The name on the screen—Angela—brought him a fleeting comfort. ‘At least I still have her,’ he thought, pressing “accept.”

But before he could speak, her voice exploded through the line. “Where the hell have you been, Charlie? You ignore my texts now?”

Her tone made his heart sink. “Angela, I—”

“Save it,” she snapped. “You always have excuses. What’s it this time?”

“I… just lost my mother,” he said softly, voice cracking.

She scoffed. “Don’t start with your drama, Charlie. You poor guys always have something tragic going on. Just send the $4,000 I asked for, or we’re done.”

He froze. “Angela… please. I don’t even have—”

“Then we’re done,” she said coldly and hung up.

For a long while, he stood there on the road, staring at his reflection on the dead phone screen. His heart felt heavier than his body. He tried to rationalize it—‘She’s just under pressure,’ he told himself. ‘She doesn’t mean it.’ But deep down, he knew he was lying to himself.

An hour later, he reached campus, sweat-soaked and drained, still clutching his mother’s note. Daniel spotted him immediately and ran over. “Man, you look terrible,” he said, then noticed Charlie’s red eyes. “Wait—what happened?”

Charlie swallowed hard. “She’s gone.”

Daniel’s face fell. “Oh, Charlie…” He pulled him into a wordless hug.

Before Charlie could thank him, a familiar voice called out behind them—soft, female, trembling with emotion. “Charlie?”

They turned. It was Jacy. She had escaped the Grant mansion. She looked breathless, as though she’d run the whole way. When she saw Charlie’s eyes, she didn’t need to ask. She covered her mouth in shock. “She’s… dead?”

Charlie nodded.

Jacy cursed under her breath, tears welling. “My parents… they killed her.” She shook her head. “They’ll pay for this. I swear, Charlie, they’ll pay.”

Before anyone could respond, a group of boys swaggered toward them—Jacob and his friends, grinning like vultures.

“Well, well,” Jacob said, hands in his pockets. “If it isn’t the scholarship boy.”

Charlie sighed. “Not now, Jacob.”

Jacob laughed. “You owe us forty grand, remember? We’re talking to the school board today. Maybe they’ll cut off your scholarship.”

Jacy frowned. “Forty thousand? What for?”

Charlie exhaled. “I helped them with their assignments once, took an advance to cover some fees… but I didn’t finish because of… everything that happened.”

Brie, Jacob’s girlfriend, stepped forward, arms crossed. “He cost them grades, so he pays. One hundred times what he took.”

Jacy’s eyes narrowed. She had always hated Brie—and Angela too—for their arrogance. “You heartless people,” she snapped. “Can’t you see he just lost his mother an hour ago? Let it go.”

Jacob and his friends exchanged glances. Some looked uneasy, but Brie cut in sharply. “That’s not our problem. He owes. He pays.”

Jacy’s patience snapped. “Fine,” she said coldly. “Keep it up, and you’re all banned from the party tomorrow. The biggest one of the year. Let’s see who’ll still talk to you after that.”

The color drained from Jacob’s face. “Come on, Jacy… don’t do that.”

“Then leave,” she said, voice firm.

Jacob quickly nodded. “Alright, alright. Forget it.” He turned to Charlie. “Guess you got lucky, Grant. Thank your sister.”

Daniel sighed in relief. “That was close. Thanks, Jacy.”

Charlie nodded, about to speak his gratitude when a sharp, angry voice cut through the air—loud enough for half the quad to hear.

“Charlie! You worthless piece of trash!”

They all turned to see who was calling him, and behold, it was Angela, Charlie’s so-called girlfriend. Her glare could have cut glass.