The Trillionaire Son-in-Law: God-Level Choice System

The sterile smell of disinfectant hung heavy in the air, choking the hope out of anyone who lingered too long in the hallway of the ICU.

"Chase, I’m done repeating myself."

Doctor Yan didn't even look up from his clipboard. His pen scratched aggressively against the paper, a sound that felt like it was tearing through Chase Lu’s eardrums.

"Doctor Yan, please," Chase’s voice was hoarse, cracked from days of dehydration and sleeplessness. He reached out, his fingers hovering over the doctor’s white coat but afraid to touch it. "Just two more days. No, one day. Give me twenty-four hours."

Doctor Yan finally stopped writing. He sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked at the young man standing before him. Chase wore a faded grey T-shirt that had lost its shape years ago, and his sneakers were held together by sheer willpower and a dab of superglue.

"Chase," Doctor Yan said, his tone dropping to a cold, professional baritone. "Do you know how much your mother’s ventilator costs per hour?"

"I know," Chase whispered.

"Do you know how much the dialysis machine costs? The specialized nursing care?" The doctor stepped closer, his voice lowering so the passing nurses wouldn't hear, though they all knew. "You are forty-eight thousand dollars in debt to this hospital. The board met this morning. They didn't want to wait until sunset. They wanted to pull the plug at noon. I bought you six extra hours out of pity."

"Pity..." Chase tasted the word. It was bitter.

"It’s 4:00 PM," Doctor Yan said, tapping his watch face with a rhythmic click-click-click. "You have until sunset. If you don't show up with at least fifty thousand to clear the arrears and pay the deposit, we disconnect the machine. Don't beg me again. Go beg someone who has money."

The doctor turned on his heel and walked away, his white coat fluttering like a shroud.

Chase stood alone in the hallway. He looked through the glass window of Ward 302. His mother lay there, pale, thin, a tube down her throat, her chest rising and falling mechanically. She was the only person in the world who had ever loved him unconditionally.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. The screen was cracked, but the Caller ID was clear enough: Mother-in-Law.

He pressed answer.

"Chase! Are you dead?" The shrill voice of Adams screeched through the speaker so loudly that a nurse down the hall glared at him.

"I'm... I'm at the hospital, Mom," Chase stammered.

"Who cares where you are? Do you know what day it is?" Adams screamed. "It’s Grandma’s eightieth birthday! The guests are already arriving at the Golden Phoenix Hotel. Where are you? The toilets in the VIP suite aren't going to scrub themselves!"

"I'm coming," Chase said, his voice trembling. "Mom, listen, I need to talk to you about something important. It’s about money—"

"Money?" Adams let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "You want money? You haven't earned a dime in three years, and you want money? Just get your useless ass over here. If you're not here in twenty minutes, don't bother coming back to the villa tonight. Sleep on the street!"

Click.

The line went dead.

Chase lowered the phone. He took a deep breath, swallowing the humiliation that burned his throat like acid. He had no choice. The Song family was wealthy. Fifty thousand dollars was nothing to them, it was the price of a handbag, a dinner, a whim.

I have to beg, Chase told himself, turning away from his mother’s room. Even if I have to kneel until my knees break, I have to get that money.

The Golden Phoenix Hotel.

The afternoon sun glinted off the polished hoods of the luxury cars lining the driveway. A procession of Mercedes, Bentleys, and Ferraris snaked toward the entrance.

Chase navigated his rusted electric scooter through the gaps between the limousines. The brakes squealed, a high-pitched, dying sound as he pulled up to the valet stand.

The head valet, a man named Tony who had known Chase for years, sneered and stepped forward, blocking the way.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there, Lightning McQueen," Tony laughed, kicking the tire of Chase’s scooter. "You can't park this scrap metal here. You’ll scare the rich people."

"Tony, I’m in a hurry," Chase said, stepping off. "Just park it round the back for me?"

"Park it yourself," Tony spat, checking his reflection in the window of a nearby Porsche. "And make sure you lock it. Actually, don't bother. Nobody would steal this trash."

Chase gritted his teeth, pushed the scooter to a dark corner behind a dumpster, and ran toward the banquet hall.

As he pushed open the heavy mahogany doors, a wave of cold air conditioning and expensive perfume hit him. The hall was magnificent. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen fireworks. The city’s elite mingled in groups, holding flutes of champagne.

"Look who finally decided to show up."

The voice cut through the ambient chatter like a knife.

Chase froze. He saw his family, or rather, his wife’s family, seated at the main table near the stage. Adams, his mother-in-law, was glaring at him with eyes full of disgust. Beside her sat his wife, Bella Song.

Bella looked stunning in an evening gown of dark blue silk, but her face was weary. When she saw Chase, her shoulders slumped slightly. She didn't wave. She didn't smile. She just looked down at her empty plate.

Chase walked over, head bowed, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"Mom, Bella, Grandma," Chase greeted them softly.

"You smell like disinfectant and sweat," Adams said, wrinkling her nose and waving her hand in front of her face. "Stay back. Don't contaminate the food."

"I... I came straight from the hospital," Chase said.

"Is that supposed to be an excuse?" A deep, arrogant voice boomed from the other side of the table.

Chase looked up. Sitting in the seat of honor, right next to Bella, was Justin Han.

Justin was everything Chase was not. Rich, handsome, confident. He wore a white tailored suit that probably cost more than Chase’s mother’s entire treatment plan. He swirled a glass of red wine, looking at Chase with a mixture of amusement and pity.

"Chase, old boy," Justin smiled, showing perfect white teeth. "Today is Grandma Song’s eightieth birthday. A momentous occasion. Everyone here has brought a gift. I myself brought a Jade Buddha carved by Master Li, worth two hundred thousand."

Justin gestured to the center of the table, where a magnificent green statue sat. The guests nearby murmured in appreciation.

"Young Master Han is so generous!" "Bella is so lucky to have a suitor like him." "Compare that to the useless husband. What a tragedy."

Justin leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Chase. "So, Chase. What did you bring? Did you buy Grandma a bun from the street corner? Or perhaps a handwritten card?"

Chase’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I... I didn't bring anything."

"Nothing?" Adams slammed her hand on the table. The cutlery rattled. "You useless waste of space! You eat our food, live in our house, and on the most important day of the year, you come empty-handed?"

"Mom, please," Chase’s voice cracked. He couldn't wait anymore. The sun was setting. "I didn't bring a gift because... because I have nothing left. I need to ask you for help."

The table went quiet. Even the guests at the nearby tables stopped talking to listen to the drama.

"Help?" Bella finally spoke. Her voice was soft, tired. "Chase, what happened?"

"The hospital," Chase looked at his wife, pleading with his eyes. "They are going to pull the plug at sunset. I need fifty thousand dollars. Bella, Mom, Grandma... please. I will do anything. I will work as a servant for the rest of my life. Just lend me the money."

"Fifty thousand?" Adams laughed. It was a cruel, high-pitched sound. "You want us to throw fifty thousand dollars into a bottomless pit? Your mother has been dying for three years, Chase. It’s time to let her go."

"She’s my mother!" Chase shouted, his control slipping.

"And this is my money!" Adams shouted back. "We don't run a charity for the dying!"

"Grandma?" Chase looked at the elderly woman at the head of the table.

Grandma Song didn't even look at him. She continued eating her soup, as if Chase were a fly buzzing around her ear.

"Chase, look at yourself," Justin interrupted, standing up slowly. He walked around the table until he was standing right in front of Chase. He towered over him. "You are begging a room full of elites for pocket change. It’s embarrassing. Truly."

Justin reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out a thick wallet. He opened it, revealing a stack of crisp, hundred-dollar bills.

"Tell you what," Justin said, his voice loud enough for the entire hall to hear. "I’m in a good mood today. I like helping the poor. It makes me feel... benevolent."

He pulled out the stack, about ten thousand dollars and held it in front of Chase’s face.

"Here is ten thousand. It’s not fifty, but it buys you a few days, right?"

Chase’s heart hammered in his chest. He reached out his hand, his fingers trembling. "Thank... Thank you, Justin. I—"

Slap.

Justin opened his hand and let the bills fall. They didn't go into Chase’s hand. They fluttered down, hitting Chase in the face, sliding down his chest, and scattering onto the dirty carpet.

Chase froze.

"Oops," Justin grinned. "My hand slipped."

Laughter erupted from the surrounding tables.

"Pick it up," Justin commanded, his voice turning hard. "But you know, Chase, in the business world, we don't give money for free. We need an exchange of value. I give you money, you give me entertainment."

Chase stared at the money on the floor. "What... what do you want?"

"Bark," Justin said.

Chase looked up sharply. "What?"

"Bark," Justin repeated, pointing at the floor. "Like a dog. A hungry, desperate dog. Bark three times, loud and clear. If you do it well, maybe I’ll give you another ten thousand."

"Justin, that’s enough," Bella stood up, her face pale. "This is too much."

"Sit down, Bella," Adams grabbed her daughter’s wrist and yanked her back into her chair. "Let him do it. It’s the only thing he’s good at. If he wants to save his mother, he needs to learn his place."

Chase looked at Bella. She was biting her lip, looking away. She wasn't fighting for him. She was ashamed of him.

He looked at the money. Ten thousand dollars. It could buy two days. Two days of breath for his mother.

He looked at Justin’s polished leather shoes.

Is this my life? Chase thought. Is this all I am?

"Tick tock, Chase," Justin checked his Rolex. "The sun is setting."

Chase’s knees shook. Slowly, painfully, he began to bend his legs. He lowered himself toward the floor.

"Look! He’s doing it!" a guest shouted. "Get the camera out!" "What a good dog!"

Chase’s knees touched the carpet. He reached for a bill.

I’m sorry, Mom, he thought, tears blurring his vision. I’m so sorry.

Just as his fingers brushed the green paper, a sound exploded inside his skull. It wasn't a sound from the room. It was a mechanical, digital chime that resonated in the deepest part of his consciousness.

[Ding!]

[System Detected: Host's emotional threshold has been breached.]

[Condition Met: Ultimate Humiliation.]

[Initiating Binding Sequence... 33%... 66%... 100%.]

[System Bound: The God-Level Choice System.]

[Triggered Event: The Banquet of Scorn.]

Time seemed to slow down. The laughter of the crowd warped into a low, demonic drone. The floating dust particles in the air froze in place. A translucent blue screen, glowing with ethereal light, materialized directly in front of Chase’s eyes.

[Please make a choice:]

[Option 1: Kneel, pick up the money, and bark like a dog. Reward: Title 'Ultimate Coward' (Charisma -10), $10,000 cash.]

[Option 2: Stand up, turn around, and run away crying. Reward: A pair of Nike sneakers (Speed +1).]

[Option 3: Step on the money, slap Justin Han in the face, and declare your dominance. Reward: The Black Gold Supreme Card (Balance: $10 Billion) + The Song Family’s respect (Locked).]

Chase blinked. He shook his head, thinking he was hallucinating from the stress. But the screen remained, pulsing gently.

He read the words again.

Option 3... Balance: $10 Billion.

Chase knelt there, one hand on the floor, his eyes wide. The numbers seared themselves into his mind.

Ten... Billion?