The Trillionaire No One Saw Coming

Chapter 3

Moments later, Vincent arrived at the place. He stood frozen in front of the towering Grand Fidel Hotel, neck craned, eyes wide in awe. The building shimmered beneath the evening light, its mirror-glass exterior casting reflections of the city like a dream. It was the kind of place he’d only seen in magazines—too pristine, too luxurious, too out of reach.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” he whispered, swallowing hard as he stepped forward. His sneakers squeaked on the polished floor as he passed through the golden revolving doors and into the grand lobby. The chandeliers sparkled above his head, the air conditioned cool and scented. Every inch screamed luxury, and every step he took reminded him he didn’t belong.

He barely made it to the center of the lobby before two security guards approached him. One crossed his arms while the other sneered, glancing down at his simple clothes.

“No job vacancies here, kid,” one of them said dryly, waving him off like a stray dog.

“I’m not here for a job,” Vincent replied quickly, trying to sound confident. “I was invited… by someone.”

The second guard raised an eyebrow. “Invited?” He looked him up and down, chuckling. “You look like you came to fix the plumbing, not dine with the rich.”

“I came to see Mr. Macul Forbes,” Vincent stated calmly, holding his ground despite the heat crawling up his neck.

Both guards burst into laughter. “You serious? Mr. Forbes?” the taller one mocked. “You must be dreaming. That man doesn’t meet with beggars.”

Vincent’s jaw tightened. “Then confirm it. Just call and ask. I swear, I’m telling the truth.”

Still laughing, the guards shrugged and walked to the front desk. One leaned in to the receptionist. “Hey, Tanya. This guy says he’s here to see Mr. Macul Forbes.”

The receptionist, a woman in her late twenties with neatly styled hair and a stiff smile, glanced at Vincent over her monitor. “Name?”

“Vincent Morgan,” he answered politely.

She raised a brow, tapping something on her computer. Though she had received instructions that Mr. Forbes would be expecting someone special, she hesitated. The man in front of her didn’t fit the profile.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, her voice laced with doubt. “But I don’t see your name listed as an approved guest.”

Vincent frowned. “He asked me to meet him at the VIP floor.”

She gave a tight smile. “Even if he did, I can’t let someone dressed like that through. You’re clearly mistaken.”

The guards snorted. “I told you, he’s probably here to steal. These broke folks get bolder every day.”

Vincent tried to explain again, but the taller guard grabbed his arm.

“Time to go, Mr. Forbes’ imaginary guest,” he said mockingly, dragging Vincent toward the doors.

“I’m not lying!” Vincent snapped, struggling to break free. “Call him! Just call—”

“Get lost before we rough handle you,” the other one growled, shoving him out.

Vincent hit the pavement, catching himself on his elbows. Shame and frustration burned his face. He slowly rose, dusting off his jeans with trembling hands.

With only minutes left before the meeting time, something snapped inside him. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity vanish—not when everything else had already been taken.

Ignoring the pounding in his chest, Vincent rushed back inside, dodging the guards’ shocked expressions. His legs moved before his brain could stop them. He headed straight for the elevators, hoping—praying—that he could just make it up there in time.

In his rush, he didn’t see her.

They collided.

Hot liquid splashed across the front of a cream blouse, followed by the soft gasp of a woman.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, stepping back. Her coffee cup dropped and rolled across the marble floor.

“I-I’m so sorry!” Vincent stammered, grabbing tissues from the nearby stand and attempting to hand them to her. “I wasn’t looking—”

The woman glared at Vincent, her lips curling in disgust. “Why couldn’t you watch where you were going, you fool?! Do you know how much this dress costs?”

“I’m really sorry,” Vincent said again, holding out tissues. “Please, I didn’t mean to—I'll pay for the dry cleaning—”

She scoffed loudly. “Dry cleaning?” Her voice dripped with venom. “This is an original designer dress, you rag! Your entire generation couldn’t afford the sleeve, let alone the full outfit!”

Vincent’s heart sank. Eyes were beginning to turn toward them. Heat rushed to his cheeks.

“Do you think saying sorry is enough? You think just because you wandered into this hotel, you’re somebody?” she snapped. “You know what? I’m calling the police. You should be locked up!”

Before Vincent could protest, the two security guards caught up with him.

“There he is!” one shouted, grabbing his arm.

The woman turned on them. “Good! This lunatic spilled coffee all over me and now pretends like he belongs here!”

The shorter guard yanked Vincent back. “We knew you were trouble. Now you’ll explain yourself to the police.”

“I told you,” Vincent said, trying to steady his voice, “Mr. Macul invited me—”

“Shut up!” the woman yelled. “Macul Forbes wouldn’t invite someone like you! You liar!”

“Enough!”

The booming voice made everyone freeze. A tall man in a navy-blue suit stepped forward. His presence alone demanded attention.

The guards stiffened. “Mr. Keith, sir,” one stammered. “We were just trying to remove a nuisance—”

The manager, Mr. Keith ignored them and looked directly at Vincent. “And you are?”

“I’m Vincent Morgan. Mr. Macul invited me personally,” Vincent replied, voice calm but firm.

Mr. Keith’s eyes widened. Without hesitation, he bowed slightly. “Mr. Morgan. Please forgive us for the disgraceful treatment you’ve received.”

The entire lobby seemed to pause.

“You—you’re serious?” one guard stammered.

Mr. Keith straightened, his tone sharp. “You both failed to recognize a special guest of our top client. You’re fired. Leave this building immediately.”

“What? But—” they tried to speak, but he turned away.

“Tanya!” he called.

The receptionist stepped forward. “Sir, I was only following protocol. He didn’t look—”

“Enough,” Keith barked. “Your bias cost this hotel its dignity. You’re dismissed.”

Tanya gasped. “Sir, please—”

“Leave,” he ordered coldly.

Then he turned to Vincent. “I’ll escort you personally to Mr. Macul. This way, sir.”

Vincent followed, stunned. Just moments ago, he was being dragged like a criminal. Now, the same people who mocked him were straightly fired.