When the Loser Became rich heir

Chapter One

Luca stared at his phone screen, his hands trembling as he read the message from Memorial Hospital for the third time. The words blurred together: critical condition... emergency surgery required... $100,000...

His mother was dying.

He jabbed Isabella's number with shaking fingers. The call went straight to voicemail. He tried again. And again. Each automated message felt like a punch to his gut.

"Come on, Isabella. Please," he whispered, pacing the sterile hallway of their penthouse. The marble floors gleamed beneath his worn sneakers—a constant reminder that nothing here belonged to him.

His phone buzzed. For a split second, hope flared in his chest. Then he saw the name: Alessandro Thompson.

"Hello?" Luca answered immediately.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Alessandro's voice dripped with contempt. "Mrs. Benedetti is in the middle of closing a multi-million dollar deal, and you're blowing up her phone like some desperate beggar?"

Luca's jaw clenched. "Alessandro, please. My mother—"

"Your mother? Let me guess, you need money again." Alessandro's laugh was cruel. "You really are shameless, aren't you?"

"She needs emergency surgery. It's $100,000. If Isabella doesn't—"

"One hundred thousand?" Alessandro scoffed. "Do you think Mrs. Benedetti is an ATM? That you can just snap your fingers and demand whatever you want?"

"I'm not demanding anything. I'm begging." The words tasted like ash in Luca's mouth. "Just tell Isabella. Please."

There was a long pause. Luca could hear the smirk in Alessandro's voice when he finally spoke. "What exactly is this money for? You expect me to just pass along your sob story without proof?"

"My mother needs surgery. She's dying."

"So you say." Alessandro's tone turned sharp. "But how do I know you're not lying? For all I know, you're trying to scam money for gambling debts or some other pathetic habit. You people from the bottom of the barrel—you're all the same."

Luca's free hand formed a fist. "What did you just call me?"

"You heard me. Now, if you want Mrs. Benedetti to even consider this ridiculous request, you'll get me official documentation from the hospital. Signed and stamped. Until then, stop wasting our time."

The line went dead.

Two hours later, Luca burst through the glass doors of Benedetti Enterprises, clutching a manila envelope. His shirt was soaked with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He'd run the entire way.

Alessandro stood near the reception desk, his designer suit immaculate, his expression one of bored disdain.

"Here." Luca thrust the envelope at him. "Everything you asked for. The surgery authorization, the cost breakdown, my mother's medical records—"

Alessandro took the envelope between two fingers, as if handling something contaminated. He didn't even look inside. "These could easily be forged."

"What?" Luca's voice cracked. "You can call the hospital yourself. Dr. Martinez is—"

"Do you really expect me to waste my time fact-checking every little document some loser brings me?" Alessandro tossed the envelope onto the reception desk carelessly. "For all I know, you printed these off some website. You're that desperate, aren't you? Like dirt begging for rain."

"My mother is dying!" Luca's control finally snapped. He grabbed Alessandro by his lapels, shoving him against the marble column. "You heartless piece of—"

"Luca!"

The voice cut through the lobby like ice.

Luca's head whipped around. Isabella stood at the elevator, her charcoal business suit perfectly pressed, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her expression was carved from stone.

"Get your hands off him," she said, her voice flat and emotionless. "Now."

Luca released Alessandro immediately, stepping back. " Isabella, please, you have to listen—"

Alessandro stumbled forward, making a show of straightening his suit. "Mrs. Benedetti, thank God you're here. This maniac tried to assault me! All because I was doing my job—protecting you from his fraudulent money scheme."

"Fraudulent?" Luca turned to Isabella, desperate. "My mother needs emergency surgery. She has hours, maybe less. I just need—"

"What you need," Isabella interrupted, her gray eyes cold as winter, "is to learn your place."

Luca felt like he'd been slapped. "My place?"

"Alessandro was right to question you. You have no job, no income, nothing." She took a step closer, and Luca could see nothing but indifference in her gaze. "Everything you have—the roof over your head, the food you eat, your mother's medication—comes from me. And you repay that generosity by attacking my assistant?"

"He called me dirt! He wouldn't even—"

"Enough." Isabella's voice could have frozen fire. "Starting today, I'm suspending all payments for your mother's treatment. When you're ready to apologize to Alessandro properly—on your knees, if necessary—then maybe we'll discuss reinstating her medication."

The world tilted beneath Luca's feet. "You... you can't..."

"I just did." Isabella turned toward the elevator. "Maybe this will teach you some humility."

" Isabella!" Luca lunged forward, but security guards materialized from nowhere, grabbing

his arms. "She'll die! Please!"