The undercover billionaire

SCAM?

Arthur stood in the rain, phone trembling in his hand.

Deposit received: $100,000,000.

He stared at the glowing screen, his mind blank. His throat tightened.

This couldn’t be real. Impossible.

Another cruel joke? A glitch?

A laugh slipped out—dry, bitter. “A hundred million… what a dumb joke."

Arthur grumbled, shoving the phone back into his pocket, forcing his breath to steady. His mother needed him focused, not chasing illusions. The Harrises still owed him, and he would take what was his.

The Harris Group building was located in the heart of the city.

Getting into the building was hard, but due to party, the guards were only after the rich, trying to get a few bucks out of them and in turn, ignoring him.

Inside the top floor banquet hall, lights sparkled and guests mingled, laughed, and partied.

The moment Arthur stepped into the room, drenched and shivering, heads turned to look at him.

“Racheal’s ex-husband?”

“What is he doing here?”

“Get security!”

Before anyone could react, Arthur walked straight to the front where Racheal was standing, wearing a golden dress, surrounded by relatives and company directors. She was holding a wine glass, smiling.

“Rachael, please give me back the money you took from me,” Arthur’s cold face hit her, his rigid demeanor stunning everyone.

Was this the same Arthur they knew?

Where was the cowering figure that kept his head low?

The room went silent, but then the sneers came, their silence everprorating like smoke.

“Oh no, the trash husband is back.”

“Didn’t he get kicked out already?”

“Look at him! So embarrassing!”

“Arthur…” Racheal called, frowning. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Where is the money?” he asked without fail, his eyes stone cold. “You promised to double it and I need it now.”

“Promised?” Mr. Harold barked. “You signed the divorce. You got your payment. Leave now before I call the police.”

“Besides,” Mrs. Linda chimed in, “Racheal’s moving on now. She’s getting married to Mr. Martin from the Hemsworth family. Oh, and she’s pregnant too.”

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Arthur's ears rang.

Racheal is pregnant?

With another man’s child?

Laughter echoed in the room. Some people even had their phones out, already recording the whole drama.

Arthur barely heard the laughter around him.

All these years he had been loyal to a fault, and here she was sneering at him and basking in people's praises because she was pregnant.

The thought stung Arthur.

To think that his wife had been cheating while they were still married.

Before he could say anything however, the crowd parted and a tall, handsome man in a custom-made white suit stepped forward with a glass of champagne in his hand. His hair was slicked back. Everyone recognized him instantly.

Martin Hemsworth, Racheal’s new fiancé. First son of the Hemsworth family dealing in mining. Their family was the first in the country to own a jade mine, and the source of their wealth. Martin was rich, influential, and ruthless.

“Racheal,” he called loudly, with a grin, his green eyes twinkling with mischief as if accessing a former rival. “Is this the ex-husband you told me about?”

The crowd chuckled. Racheal didn’t even respond.

“He looks… worse than I imagined,” Martin said as he circled Arthur like a lion toying with a cornered animal. “I expected at least a good-looking man.”

Arthur clenched his fists. “I only came here for—”

Martin raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You came here to cause trouble! In front of so many guests?” He turned to the crowd and shouted, “Everyone! Please be quiet!”

The music stopped and all heads turned towards the drama.

“This man,” Martin said loudly, pointing to Arthur, “is here to beg for money his ex-wife already gave him out of pity. He signed the divorce, got paid, and now he wants more?”

More laughter.

“Racheal,” Martin turned and offered her his hand. “Come stand beside me. I want to show the world the difference between your past and your future.”

Racheal smiled faintly and took his hand, walking over gracefully.

Arthur looked at her. “Racheal… I was your husband.”

She answered without an eye bash, “That’s in the past.”

Martin followed, wrapping his arms perfectly on her waist. “And now she’s with a real man.”

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone. With exaggerated flair, he tapped the screen, then showed it to Arthur.

“Here,” he said, loud enough for the guests to hear. “I have transferred one thousand five hundred dollars to your account. Go buy yourself a clean shirt. Or a coffin for your mother. Whatever you prefer.”

The entire room exploded in laughter. Even some executives and old family friends joined in.

“Such generosity, Young Master Martin!”

“I wouldn’t even give a beggar that much!”

Arthur looked up, humiliated. Everyone was filming as dozens of phones were pointed at him.

“Racheal… " he called her name, hoping that all these was a dream.

She didn’t reply. But her silence was louder than words could ever express.

Martin leaned in close and whispered, just for Arthur to hear:

“You were never a husband. A person like you deserve to remain in the slums forever.”

That had snapped the chord for him. Without a word, he left.

No security, no words, but the jeering laughs that filled the air were forever etched in his soul.

Arthur turned and walked out with his head down and shoulders low.

He was trending on the internet by the time he reached the lobby.

“EX-SON-IN-LAW INTERRUPTS PARTY AND BEGS FOR MONEY!”

The comments were nasty.

More laughter followed him, echoing through the gilded corridors of the Harris villa.

Outside, the night air was cool against his face, but it didn’t wash away the fire raging in his chest. His fists tightened until his knuckles cracked. Humiliation, rage, and helplessness clawed at him—but beneath it all was a cold promise: one day, they would regret this.

Arthur had just stepped onto the quiet street when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out and frowned. An unfamiliar number.

Hesitating, he answered.

“Good evening, Young Master,” came a calm, deep voice. “Did you receive the money I sent to your account?”

Arthur froze. His heart thudded.

Young Master?

His lips twisted bitterly. Of course. Another prank. Another way the Harrises mocked him.

“You people really have nothing better to do, do you?” he snapped, and hung up.

He took a step forward—

The phone rang again. The same number.

Arthur’s teeth ground together. Fury surged in his veins. He swiped to answer, ready to unleash his anger.

“Listen here, you—”

“Should I double the money?”

Arthur stopped.

The world around him fell silent.

His breath caught in his throat.

The voice was calm. Steady. Deadly serious.

Arthur’s hand shook around the phone as the words echoed in his skull.

Double the money?