Two Hundred Million Dollar Slap
1616 Words
The Grand Hotel Casino VIP lounge was loud. Wealthy patrons drank vintage champagne under crystal chandeliers. Julian walked past the entrance security. He wore cheap grey sweatpants. He wore a stark white hospital bandage over his right eye. He had five thousand dollars in his pocket. He had just pawned the platinum wedding ring Chloe gave him three years ago.
A security guard stepped directly into his path. "Stop right there. This is a private floor. You need to leave before I throw you out."
"Let him stay," Arthur Sterling yelled across the room.
Julian turned his head. Arthur stood by the high stakes tables. He held a glass of champagne. Chloe and Marcus stood next to him. They were surrounded by local hedge fund managers. They were celebrating the upcoming Zenith Pharmaceuticals approval.
"This is my former son in law," Arthur announced to the crowd. "He came to beg for our leftovers."
The crowd of elites laughed.
"Good lord," a wealthy woman said. "Is this the man you told us about this morning? The organ donor?"
"The very same," Arthur laughed loudly. "He cleared our margin call today. I suppose we can let him watch us celebrate our new wealth."
Chloe rolled her eyes in disgust. She clung to Marcus’s arm. "You have absolutely no dignity left, Julian. Security, spray some air freshener. He smells like a public hospital."
Marcus walked forward. He wore a smug grin. He pulled a thick stack of hundred dollar bills from his designer jacket. "Look at you. A deformed loser with nothing to his name. Did you come here for a handout?"
Marcus tossed a single hundred dollar bill onto the velvet carpet. It landed at Julian’s cheap sneakers.
Julian did not look down. His left eye locked onto Marcus. "I did not come here for your loose change, Marcus. I came here to play."
Arthur wheezed with laughter. "Play? With what money? You do not have a single penny."
Julian pulled the wad of cash from his pocket. "I have five thousand dollars. I sold the wedding ring Chloe gave me. It was the only item of actual value she ever provided."
Chloe flushed bright red. "You sold my ring? You ungrateful trash."
"It was worth five thousand," Julian stated coldly. "Which is four thousand nine hundred and sixty five dollars more than the fake cubic ring you are wearing right now."
A shocked gasp rippled through the guests. Several women leaned in to stare at Chloe’s hand. Chloe panicked. She shoved her hand into her designer purse. Her face burned with intense humiliation.
Marcus lost his smug grin. "Shut your mouth. You are a lunatic. You bring five thousand dollars to the VIP floor? The minimum buy in at the roulette table is ten thousand. You are a joke."
"I am not playing roulette," Julian said smoothly.
He walked past Marcus. He approached the massive digital betting wall at the back of the lounge. The wall broadcast the Imperial Derby live from Dubai. It was the most prestigious horse race in the world. The digital board displayed the odds. The favorite was a massive black stallion named Emperor.
Julian focused his left eye on the digital screen. An electric pulse throbbed behind his retina. The world slowed down. Glowing golden text erupted into his field of vision.
[Asset Target: Imperial Derby Grand Trifecta]
[Winning Sequence: First Place Horse Seven. Second Place Horse Three. Third Place Horse Twelve.]
[Current Odds: Eighty Thousand to One]
[Estimated Return: Two Hundred Million Dollars After Taxes]
[Catalyst Event: Horse Seven experiences a massive adrenaline surge. The favorite trips on a loose patch of dirt.]
Julian blinked. The text vanished. The absolute certainty of the future remained locked in his mind.
He walked to the automated betting terminal. He selected the exact trifecta sequence. Horse seven. Horse three. Horse twelve. He inserted all five thousand dollars into the machine. The machine beeped loudly. It printed a heavy gold embossed ticket.
The VIP lounge went dead silent. The guests stared at the digital board overhead. It highlighted Julian’s exact bet for the entire room to see.
"Horse number seven?" Marcus broke the silence. His voice dripped with disbelief. "You just bet your life savings on Broken Arrow? That horse shattered its leg last year. It is literally a crippled animal."
"A crippled animal for a crippled man," Arthur laughed cruelly. He slammed his cane against the floor. "The boy lost his mind during the surgery."
"Since you are so confident," Julian said. He turned to face Marcus. "Let us make it interesting. The race starts in two minutes. If I lose, I will drop to my knees and lick the dirt off your shoes in front of everyone."
Marcus smiled with s******c joy. "And I will have security broadcast it on the hotel monitors."
"But if I win," Julian raised a single finger. "You get on your knees right here. You bark like the dog you called me. And you apologize to me. Publicly."
"Deal," Marcus laughed aggressively. He pulled out a platinum credit card. He slapped it onto the terminal. "I will bet one hundred thousand dollars on Emperor to win. Just to prove how pathetic you are."
The crowd murmured in excitement. A one hundred thousand dollar bet was a massive display of wealth. They turned their attention to the television screens. The starting horn blew. The gates burst open. The thunder of hooves echoed through the speakers.
"Look at that," Arthur cheered loudly. He pointed his cigar at the screen. "Emperor is pulling ahead immediately. Your crippled horse is dead last, Julian. Get on your knees."
Julian did not look at the screen. He kept his left eye fixed entirely on Marcus.
They entered the final stretch. Emperor led by three full lengths. The crowd clapped. They congratulated Marcus on his easy victory. Marcus pointed a commanding finger at the floor.
"Down on your knees, mutt," Marcus commanded. "Lick my shoes."
"Look at the screen, Marcus," Julian whispered.
A collective gasp ripped through the VIP lounge. Someone dropped a champagne flute. The glass shattered loudly.
On the screen, Emperor’s front hoof caught a bad patch of dirt. The massive horse stumbled violently. It lost all momentum. The jockey fought to stay upright.
A blur of brown and white surged forward from the back of the pack. It was Broken Arrow. The underdog tore past the stumbling favorite. It crossed the finish line first. Horse three and horse twelve followed a fraction of a second later.
The exact trifecta.
The digital board above the terminal flashed a blinding gold.
[WINNING TICKET DETECTED. PAYOUT APPROVED. TWO HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS. FUNDS READY FOR TRANSFER.]
The silence in the lounge was deafening. Arthur dropped his cigar. It bounced onto the carpet. Chloe covered her mouth. Her eyes bulged in pure terror.
Marcus staggered backward. All the blood drained from his face. "No. That is impossible. It is a glitch. The machine is broken."
The casino manager stepped out from the crowd. He looked at Julian with absolute awe. "Sir. The race is official. Two hundred million dollars is a massive liquidity transfer. We will route the funds through the global banking reserve into your private account immediately."
Julian stepped forward. The wealthy elites instinctively stepped back. He stopped right in front of Marcus.
"The machine is not broken," Julian said coldly. "Get on your knees."
Marcus shook uncontrollably. "I will not. I am the heir to the Vance banking conglomerate. I do not kneel for street trash."
Before Julian could speak, Marcus’s custom smartphone rang violently. A second later, Arthur’s phone rang. Three other hedge fund managers had their phones go off simultaneously.
Marcus pulled his phone out with trembling hands. He answered it.
Julian watched the golden text of the future become the absolute reality of the present.
"What?" Marcus screamed into the phone. Panic laced his voice. "What do you mean the federal board rejected the d**g? What do you mean the Chief Executive Officer is arrested? Sell the stock. Sell it all right now."
Arthur grabbed Marcus by the collar. Desperation filled his eyes. "Marcus. What is happening to Zenith?"
"It is gone," Marcus sobbed. He dropped to his knees as his legs gave out from the shock. "The stock went to zero. The company is seized. The federal agents are raiding the lobby. We lost all fifty million."
The elite crowd erupted into absolute chaos. The people who laughed at Julian two minutes ago now screamed into their phones. Their portfolios were decimated by the Zenith crash.
Chloe fell to the floor. She grasped her father’s pant leg. "Daddy. What are we going to do? Silas will kill us."
Arthur looked up at Julian. The arrogant billionaire was now a broken old man. He realized Julian had predicted this exact moment in the hospital. The Sterling family was completely ruined.
Julian stood tall above them. He held the two hundred million dollar golden ticket. He looked down at the three people who had tortured him and mutilated his face.
"I told you corporate insiders lie, Arthur," Julian whispered. His voice cut clearly through the chaotic screaming.
Julian leaned down slightly. He brought his face close to Marcus Vance.
"You are on your knees, Marcus," Julian smiled coldly. "Now bark.”
- Writer
