The Majestic Trillionaire Heir, Dave Wayne

chapter 6

"It can't be… is that really you?" the man gasped, his voice trembling. "Oh my goodness… I've been searching for Victoria—and for you—for years." I never thought this day would come.

He reached out and took Dave's hand, clutching it tightly, as though afraid the boy might vanish. His eyes filled with unshed tears.

Dave stepped back slightly, confused. "How do you know my mother? "Who… who are you?" he asked cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper after hearing the name Victoria.

The man looked at him with a mixture of sorrow and joy. "I'm Jorge Wayne," he said softly. "Your father."

Dave froze. The words hit him like a wave, my father. For the first time in his life, he was standing face to face with the man he had always wanted to meet since he was a kid. His heart began pounding in his chest, and his lips parted, but no words came out.

"Where is Victoria, your mother?" Mr. Jorge asked gently.

Tears welled up in Dave's eyes as he replied, "She died nine years ago… from cancer. We were poor, so we couldn't afford the treatment, so she had to live with it, and it got worse, until it reached the final stage and became untreatable. One day, I came home from school and found her sitting in a chair, lifeless. She was just… gone. She died without saying a single final word to me."

"That has haunted me for years," Dave whispered. "She never even got to say goodbye…"

Mr. Jorge bowed his head as he listened to Dave's words. His face fell with regret, his eyes glistening as if on the verge of tears. Dave stared at him, a flicker of rage burning behind his sorrowful gaze. Then, almost trembling with emotion, he asked:

"Why did you abandon us?"

Mr. Jorge slowly raised his head, locking eyes with Dave. His voice was heavy with old wounds as he replied.

"I didn't abandon you… or your mother. She was the one who left."

He took a breath and continued.

"Victoria used to work as a maid in the Wayne family mansion. She was so beautiful... I fell in love with her. When she got pregnant, my stepmother found out. She didn't want me to marry the maid of the house. So she came up with a plan—she poisoned the food Victoria was supposed to serve to my father. And then she framed Victoria for the cause of my father's death."

Mr. Jorge looked away, the guilt etched into his face.

"I was young back then... too young to protect her. When everything fell apart, your mother had no choice but to run away."

"After she left," Mr. Jorge said quietly, "I searched for her. It took me years… but I never gave up. I couldn't. And now… now I've finally found you."

He paused, his voice beginning to crack with emotion.

"And with that… I can leave this world in peace, knowing you're here."

Dave looked up, his brow furrowed with concern. "What do you mean, 'leave this world'?"

Mr. Jorge gave a weak smile, his eyes filled with both love and sorrow.

"Look at me, son… I'm seriously ill. Unlike your mother, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The doctors tried everything, but… it's untreatable. They've given me a month, maybe less."

Those words hit Dave like a punch to the chest. His throat tightened, his eyes burning.

He had just found his father… and now, he was about to lose him.

It felt cruel. Unfair. Crushing.

"This… this is disappointing," Dave murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just found you…"

"Don't worry, son. Everything will be okay," Mr. Jorge said softly, tapping Dave's hand with gentle reassurance. "Come with me."

He began rolling his wheelchair toward the hallway, and Dave followed quietly. They stopped in front of a door. Mr. Jorge pushed it open and gestured inside.

"Son… this is your room from today."

Dave stepped in, wide-eyed. The room was large, luxurious, and elegant—like something from a dream.

"Whoa…" he gasped, hurrying to sit on the bed. "Oh my God, this bed is so soft!" He turned to Jorge, stunned. "Wait—do you mean… you own all this?"

Mr. Jorge smiled, a proud glint in his eyes. "Yes, son. All of this belongs to us. You're a Wayne."

He paused before continuing, his tone shifting from warm to serious.

"The Wayne family is one of the richest families in the world. But behind the wealth, in the shadows… we are feared. Powerful. Dangerous. We own companies, control industries, and row over so many businesses, most people don't even know we exist. To the world, we're like gods."

He looked at Dave with a mix of pride and sadness.

"And now… with my time running out, the Wayne family needs an heir. That's why I'm so glad I finally found you."

Mr. Jorge rolled his wheelchair close to Dave, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. He placed a firm, reassuring hand on Dave's shoulder.

"Son," he said with a warm but serious tone, me and you are the last heir of the Wayne family since I am running out of time, "Tomorrow, I'll have my lawyers begin the transfer of all the Wayne assets. You are now the rightful heir. Everything—this house, the businesses, the estate—it all belongs to you."

Bam! Bam!

A knock interrupted the moment.

"Oh, Danny, come in," Mr. Jorge called out, just as the door creaked open. He was slightly caught off guard.

Danny stepped in, bowing his head respectfully as he approached. "Here, Master," he said, handing a sleek black card to Mr. Jorge.

Mr. Jorge took it and turned back to Dave, extending the card towards him. Son, this is yours. I asked Danny to help me get it made. Use it for whatever you want. "I know life has been hard for you growing up, but now… you don't have to worry about anything anymore."

Dave slowly took the card from his father's hand. His eyes widened as he examined it—a jet-black card with his name engraved in elegant gold lettering.

"This… this isn't a normal card," he murmured in awe. "I heard to get one of these, you have to have at least a hundred million… or more… in your account."

Yes son, that's correct. "But this card doesn't just have a hundred million on it—it has over four trillion dollars," Mr. Jorge said calmly, noticing that Diava had assumed the card held far less.

Dave's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"Sorry… did I hear you right?" he asked, his voice unsteady. Did you say the card has four trillion dollars on it? Or... are you joking?

Mr. Jorge shook his head. "Why would I joke about that? I asked Danny to fund the card with over four trillion dollars."

Dave stared at the card in disbelief. "So... there's really four trillion in this card?" he repeated, holding it out in front of him. Then, without warning, he dropped it onto his father's lap.

"Sorry, Dad," he said quietly, stepping back. "But I can't accept this."