The ultimate millionaire system

“You must dance!” said the customer who had just taken the pizzas in his hands.

“Excuse me?” exclaimed Jack, thinking he must have misheard.

“If you want a tip, you have to dance,” the customer insisted.

“But…” Jack immediately thought of all the money he owed for the diamond ring he had bought to propose to the woman of his dreams.

“Are you going to dance or not?” The customer was starting to get bored and threatened to shut the door without tipping him.

“Alright,” Jack swallowed hard, as if swallowing his own pride. Every penny mattered to pay off that expensive ring.

He began moving his feet and hands. He was absolutely terrible at dancing, but he did it with enthusiasm, even though he looked ridiculous. It was the most humiliating thing he had ever done in his life, yet he was convinced it was worth it.

“Stop! Stop!... You’re really awful at dancing!” the customer yelled, throwing a couple of bills on the ground before quickly shutting the door, clearly dissatisfied.

Jack clenched his fists tightly as he watched those two bills slowly fall to the ground.

Ten dollars. Two five-dollar bills. That was all his pride was worth.

He got on his bike and began the ride back to the restaurant for another delivery.

The city was enormous, full of millionaires driving fancy cars, while he could only pedal on his old, rusty bicycle.

"Get out of the way, you pathetic loser!" shouted a man in an executive suit, driving his shiny Lamborghini.

Jack simply stepped aside and listened to the roar of that powerful engine.

He returned to the restaurant Dolce Pizza only to be met with yelling from an elderly Italian-American man named Vito.

"Where the hell have you been?" Vito shouted angrily.

"I was making the delivery you assigned to me," Jack replied.

"Over half an hour? You're a useless good-for-nothing!" Vito snapped, his thick Italian accent making his frustration even more pronounced.

For months, Jack had been wanting to quit this degrading, low-paying job, but his debts made it impossible. After all, being the boyfriend of a millionaire’s daughter was no easy task.

Jack had to work three times harder to afford the luxurious whims that Hillary Lombardini demanded in order to remain his girlfriend.

"I've told you a thousand times that deliveries must be made in under thirty minutes!" Vito kept shouting, but Jack was lost in his thoughts. "Do you understand?"

Jack snapped back from his daydream, "Yes, of course, Mr. Vito. It won’t happen again."

"Good... Now take these five family pizzas to this address," Vito ordered.

He handed Jack a piece of paper with the address written on it.

"This must be a joke!" Jack exclaimed after reading the address.

“Is there a problem?” Vito asked.

“It’s the Walton mansion,” Jack exclaimed.

“Yes, and they want five family-sized pizzas. What’s the problem?”

“They’re friends of Hillary’s family. Right now, they’re throwing a party at that mansion, and everyone’s there.”

“That’s not my problem. You’re going to deliver those pizzas right now, or you can consider yourself fired,” Vito said before walking away.

Jack frowned. He had no choice. If he wanted to pay off Hillary’s expensive ring, he’d have to humiliate himself once again.

Jack pedaled his old bike all the way to the front gate of the enormous mansion. To make matters worse, his bike broke down, forcing him to carry it in his hands.

He took a deep breath, summoning courage from within, and rang the doorbell.

“Here we go...” Jack whispered, knowing this would be a difficult ordeal.

The door was opened by none other than Theodore Walton, the youngest son of the Walton family.

“The pizza’s here!” Theo shouted with a mischievous grin, clearly mocking Jack.

The main hall of the Walton mansion was packed with wealthy individuals attending the grand party hosted by the Waltons that evening.

“Did you really order pizza for a gala?” Amaranta Lombardini, Hillary’s mother, asked incredulously.

“Well, you haven’t seen who the delivery guy is,” Theo replied, opening the door fully so everyone at the party could see Jack.

Amaranta Lombardini, mortified, turned her face away. To her, it was an embarrassment that her daughter was dating a mere delivery boy.

“Hello… Mrs. Amaranta,” Jack greeted awkwardly, but his future mother-in-law completely ignored him.

“I think you’ve embarrassed us enough, Theodore,” said Ardo Lombardini, Hillary’s father, clearly irritated as he crossed his arms.

“Me?” Theo laughed shamelessly. “It’s Hillary’s fault for choosing this penniless loser over my brother Ricco.”

“We’re well aware of that. Just... just take the pizzas and shut the door, will you?”

Theo looked Jack straight in the eyes, the malice on his face unmistakable.

“Of course...” Theo said as he grabbed the pizzas.

“Where is Hillary?” Jack asked quietly as he handed the pizzas over to Theo.

“She’s out on a nighttime stroll with my brother. Don’t worry, she’s in good hands.”

“Thanks,” Jack replied bitterly, unable to say or do anything. A deep sense of helplessness washed over him.

“Oh, I almost forgot... your tip,” Theodore said, pulling a $100 bill out of his pocket.

But before Jack could take it, Theodore crumpled the bill and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

“Go fetch it!” Theo ordered with a mocking grin.

Jack glanced at his in-laws, but they avoided his gaze, feigning ignorance of the humiliating situation.

There was no choice. That $100 was crucial to paying for the ring he planned to use to propose to Hillary.

Jack walked over, crouched down, and plunged his hands into the trash.

“Look at him! Look at him, everyone! Hillary’s boyfriend is a beggar!” Theodore Walton shouted, laughing uncontrollably.

The guests joined in, their laughter echoing through the Walton mansion’s grand hall as Jack rummaged through the garbage to retrieve the bill.

Once he found it, Jack left in silence, carrying his broken bicycle, while the mansion’s wealthy occupants continued to laugh at his expense.