The last minute of Poverty

chapter 8

Jason didn't waste a single word.

He picked up the leather folder, barely glancing at the astronomical number printed at the bottom of the receipt. Without blinking, he picked up his matte black credit card and handed it to the waiter.

"Split it down the middle," Jason said calmly. "Put my half on this."

The sommelier took the heavy metal card, his eyes widening slightly at its weight and unmistakable design. He quickly produced a wireless payment terminal and inserted the chip.

*Beep. Approved.*

The small machine immediately printed out a receipt. The entire transaction went through perfectly, without even the slightest pause or request for authorization.

The entire private room froze.

The mocking laughter that had filled the air just seconds ago died instantly, replaced by a suffocating silence.

Matthew’s arrogant sneer shattered. He stared at the small slip of paper in the waiter's hand as if it were a venomous snake. They had all expected Jason to humiliate himself, to beg for a payment plan, or for his card to be violently rejected. Yet, Jason had just effortlessly paid half of a terrifyingly expensive dinner bill without batting an eye.

Now, Matthew was the one trapped.

The sommelier turned to him, holding out the terminal with a polite, expectant smile. "And for the remaining balance, sir?"

Sweating profusely, Matthew gritted his teeth and pulled out his platinum credit card. He handed it over, trying to maintain his composure.

*Beep. Declined.*

The machine flashed red. The sommelier respectfully cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bening. It seems this card has reached its limit."

Matthew's face flushed a deep, humiliating crimson. "Machine error. Try this one." He shoved a second card across the table.

*Beep. Declined.*

"Insufficient funds," the sommelier whispered, loud enough for the entire dead-silent room to hear.

Matthew’s hands were shaking now. He pulled out a third card, his breathing ragged.

*Beep. Declined.*

The atmosphere in the private room shifted from awkward to unbearably tense. The classmates who had just been showering Matthew with praise now exchanged uncomfortable glances, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"Give me a minute," Matthew croaked, his voice cracking.

His fingers trembled violently as he pulled out his phone and logged into his banking app. With no other choice, he was forced to access the restricted "business start-up" account his family had just set up for him. With agonizing slowness, he transferred the funds over to his checking account.

He handed a debit card to the waiter. This time, the payment went through.

Matthew sank back into his chair, entirely devastated. He had originally planned to spend four or five thousand dollars to look like a young billionaire in front of Charlotte. Instead, his plan had backfired spectacularly. He had just been forced to burn through his entire family loan—the same one hundred thousand dollars he had been bragging about all night—just to pay for dinner.

His face was ashen, completely drained of life.

As the dinner finally concluded and the group awkwardly filtered out of the hotel and onto the street, Matthew desperately tried to salvage the last shred of his dignity. He pulled out the keys to his luxury sports car, making sure the logo was visible under the streetlights.

"Charlotte," Matthew said, forcing a strained smile. "Let me give you a ride back to campus. It's late."

Charlotte stopped on the pavement. She looked at the car keys, then looked back at Matthew with an expression of profound pity.

"No thank you, Matthew," she said, her voice carrying clearly in the cool night air. She turned deliberately toward Jason. "I'll take a cab back with Colman and Jason. Honestly, Matthew... You could learn a lot from Jason’s character. Wealth is temporary, but class is permanent."

In front of the entire stunned group of classmates, Charlotte pulled out her phone.

"Jason? Could I get your number?" she asked, her tone entirely different from the cold ice queen persona she usually wore. "I really enjoyed sitting with you tonight."

Jason smiled faintly, taking her phone and typing in his contact details.

Matthew stood completely frozen under the streetlamp, his car keys dangling uselessly from his hand as he watched the girl of his dreams openly exchange numbers with the guy he had spent the entire night trying to destroy.

Ten minutes later, the crowd had dispersed. Jason and Colman were sitting in the back of a yellow taxi, speeding down the highway toward Pendleton University.

Colman had been staring out the window in absolute silence since they left the hotel. Finally, he turned his head, looking at Jason like he was an alien.

"Dude," Colman said, his voice entirely serious. "I'm not going to ask any questions about what happened with Charlotte, or why Matthew's face looked like he just swallowed a lemon. But you have to tell me one thing."

Jason looked at him. "What?"

"Where the hell did you get that kind of money?"

Jason leaned back against the leather seat, staring out at the neon lights of Silver Bridge City blurring past the window.

"I won the lottery," he replied calmly