The undercover billionaire

Chapter four

Arthur stood frozen, the phone pressed to his ear.

“Should I double the money?”

The words echoed in his skull, impossible to grasp.

He swallowed hard, forcing a shaky laugh. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

On the other end, the man’s voice remained calm, respectful. “I assure you, Young Master, this is no joke. I simply wish to know if you are satisfied.”

Arthur’s grip tightened on the phone. His throat was dry. Every instinct screamed this was a scam, a cruel prank, or some elaborate game.

But then—

Ding.

Another notification flashed across his screen.

Deposit received: $200,000,000.

Arthur’s breath caught. His entire body went cold.

Two hundred million.

Together with the first deposit… three hundred million dollars.

The phone nearly slipped from his trembling hand.

Impossible. Absolutely impossible.

Fear slammed into him like a wave, and without thinking, he hung up. His chest heaved, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

This couldn’t be real. It had to be a scam, some system error, a cruel twist of fate. But what if—

His fingers shook as he hurried toward the nearest branch of his bank. The city lights blurred around him as adrenaline carried him forward.

Minutes felt like hours until he finally burst inside. He went straight to the ATM, his pulse racing as he inserted his card and keyed in his PIN.

The screen loaded.

Balance: $300,000,000.00

Arthur staggered back, his breath ripped from his lungs.

It was real. Every last dollar.

His world tilted. Nothing would ever be the same.

Without a second thought, he dashed straight to the bank to confirm.

Three hundred million dollars was a lot of money to begin with. He didn't know if it was a mistake, or if it was real.

If it was a mistake, then he would use it to treat his mother, and later bear the consequences.

He didn't for once want to believe the whole young master bullshit was real.

After hanging up, he had tried the line again, but it went flat.

Upon arrival, the security guard eyed his unkempt clothes suspiciously but didn’t stop him from using the ATM.

Arthur inserted his card and punched in his pin.

$300,000,000.00

He staggered back from the machine, nearly slipping on the wet tiles. “Is this… real?” he whispered.

Arthur’s hands shook as he stared at the glowing ATM screen. Three hundred million dollars. Real. Tangible. His mind screamed with possibilities—revenge, freedom, power.

But one thought swallowed everything else.

Mother.

All the anger, all the humiliation, all the dreams of vengeance—none of it mattered if she didn’t live to see tomorrow.

Arthur pulled his card free, heart hammering. Revenge could wait. His mother could not.

His face was still swollen from the humiliation at the Harris family celebration earlier. His clothes were wet and dirty from being dragged out like trash. His mother was still dying in a shared hospital bed. Yet here he was… with more money than he had ever seen in his entire life.

It felt absurd. For three years, he had been mocked as a useless son-in-law, the poor boy who was only in the Harris household because of a dusty old marriage agreement. And now, fate had tossed this fortune into his lap.

He turned around slowly and looked at the large GoldSpring Bank behind him, walking inside.

Inside the bank, wealthy people were seated in long rows. Shiny marble floors reflected the warm lights above. The air smelled faintly of perfume and polished leather; an environment Arthur was not used to.

But as soon as he stepped in, heads turned around and whispers began to spread immediately.

“Who let this guy in?”

“Looks like a beggar…”

“Is he lost?”

Arthur ignored them. He had learned long ago that if he listened to every insult, he would never lift his head again. 

He walked straight to the counter.

A woman in her thirties, wearing thick makeup and a tight suit, frowned as she looked at him.

“This is a private bank. You need to make an appointment,” she said sharply, not even asking what he needed.

Arthur kept his voice steady. “I just need to withdraw some money.”

The woman scoffed. “You? How much? Fifty bucks?”

“I want to check my account balance,” he said.

She sighed loudly. “You can do that outside at the ATM.”

“I already did. I want to confirm it here.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Name and ID?”

Arthur handed over his ID and bank card.

She glanced at it, sighed again, then inserted the card into her system.

Her bored expression changed instantly. She blinked, then looked again, and her mouth opened slightly.

Behind her, a junior staff member peeked over her shoulder and gasped.

“W-What’s going on?” someone asked.

The woman tried to keep her voice low, but her hands were shaking as she turned to Arthur.

“S-Sir… please wait… just a moment. I-I’ll call the manager… please, over here, this way to the private area.”

The crowd watched in confusion. Suddenly, the same man everyone thought was a beggar was being treated like a king.

From the VIP lounge, a young woman watched the scene unfold with narrowed eyes. She sipped her tea and adjusted her designer glasses.

She recognized Arthur immediately.

Wasn’t that Racheal’s useless ex-husband? The same man the Harris family had thrown out like trash?

Why was he in the bank?

Her lips curled in amusement as she picked up her phone. “Racheal,” she said into the receiver. “You won’t believe what I just saw.”

Arthur, meanwhile, was escorted into a private room. The walls were lined with oak panels and the scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air. He felt out of place, like a farmer suddenly seated in a royal palace.

A middle-aged man in a tailored suit entered and bowed slightly.

“Good afternoon, sir. I am Mr. Wilson, the manager. I apologize for the misunderstanding earlier.”

Arthur nodded slowly. “I want to withdraw some money. Urgently.”

“Of course, sir. We’ll arrange a cash withdrawal or transfer immediately.”

“I need to transfer three million to the hospital. Immediately.” Arthur requested.

Mr. Wilson’s expression softened. “Understood. We will transfer the funds now.”

In just a few minutes, Arthur had the full transfer receipt in his hand. He gripped it tightly, as though it were a lifeline, and rushed out of the bank.

His only thought was to get back to the hospital.

When he reached the hospital entrance, the same rude nurse from before looked up in surprise.

Arthur was back, and this time, he looked different. 

“I’m here to pay for my mother’s treatment,” he said, placing the receipt on the desk.

The nurse picked it up and blinked after seeing the hospital stamp and confirming the transfer receipt.

“I… I’ll inform the billing department,” she stammered.

Just then, a familiar figure appeared. Dr. Christina.

“You’re back,” she said. “Good. Her condition worsened in the last hour.”

Arthur’s voice was firm. “I’m here to pay for everything. Please, save her.”

Dr. Christina nodded and waved over the nurse. “Move the patient back to a proper room immediately. Prepare for surgery.”

“Yes, Doctor!”

Arthur exhaled in relief. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

He had done it.

At last, he had given his mother a chance.

Relief, raw and overwhelming, surged through him. He leaned against the wall outside her ward, closing his eyes as the weight of years of helplessness seemed to lift.

Then—

“Mr. Harris!”

A nurse burst from the administration office, her face white with panic. She nearly stumbled in her rush toward him.

Arthur’s stomach twisted. “What happened?”

She gasped, her words tumbling out in terror.

“The one hundred thousand dollars you deposited—it’s gone! Someone has already withdrawn it!”

Arthur’s blood turned to ice.