Crown of Fortune

Olympus Reach General Hospital. "Coming through! Emergency!" Alaric burst through the hospital doors, clutching his unconscious daughter, his voice cracking with urgency. "Doctors! Help my daughter, please!" Medical staff rushed forward, swiftly transferring the child from his arms into the emergency room. "Stop! Family can't enter!" A nurse in pale blue scrubs blocked Alaric's path just as the sharp staccato of heels echoed through the corridor—each click striking his heart like a mallet. "Alaric!" Jade's voice sliced through the chaos. *SMACK!* The slap landed with brutal clarity. Jade stood trembling before him, her glistening eyes burning with fury. "If our daughter dies because of you, I'll never forgive you!" Her words hung frozen in the air, heavy with rage. The scene drew gasps from nearby patients and visitors. Alaric kept his head bowed, offering no defense. "Tch!" Jade's contemptuous scoff made her feelings painfully clear. Even strangers could see the disdain radiating from her. Alaric stood rooted like a chastened schoolboy, not daring to speak. His gaze kept drifting to the woman mere steps away—his wife. The woman who'd already signed their divorce agreement. The woman who could finalize their separation anytime. Jade was breathtaking—her delicate features and graceful poise a testament to her cultured upbringing. Once the university's sweetheart, she'd inexplicably fallen for Alaric. Their whirlwind romance led to a hasty marriage and daughter Aria. But marital bliss proved fleeting. Alaric's career floundered, his businesses collapsed. Their daughter's life-threatening heart condition drained their savings dry. Now he barely scraped by delivering takeout. Meanwhile, Jade thrived as a marketing VP at a listed company. Her parents—a section chief and retired teacher—were established professionals. In the Kingsley family, Alaric had become practically invisible these past two years. Because of him, Jade's relationship with her parents fractured. They refused help unless she divorced him—with custody going to the Kingsleys. This stalemate had dragged on for a year. When the ER doors finally swung open, Alaric started forward—only to see Jade already rushing ahead. He hovered a few steps back, watching his precious daughter from a distance. Aria's pale little hand reached out, the oxygen mask covering her face, her dark eyes glistening as she murmured weakly, "Daddy...?" Alaric stepped forward, cradling his daughter's ice-cold fingers while gently smoothing the hair at her temples. His voice wavered with false cheer, "Daddy's right here, sweetheart." "Mommy," the three-year-old murmured, her tiny voice trembling, "don't fight with Daddy... It's my fault. I made Daddy take me to the amusement park." Jade's stern expression softened briefly as she forced a smile. "Okay baby, Mommy promises not to fight with Daddy." Her tone warmed just for their daughter before turning cold again. "Alaric, go pay the hospital fees." The cold demand cut through the tender moment. Alaric met Jade's gaze only to receive a frosty glare before she swept into the ward with their daughter. At the billing desk, the nurse's lip curled when his card declined. "Insufficient funds," she said with fake sympathy, recognition flashing across her face. "Oh, it's you." Her voice dripped with contempt. "The deadbeat who keeps leeching off his wife. Could've asked your in-laws for help, but couldn't swallow your pride, could you?" She scoffed. "Pathetic." "No balance?" Alaric's face flushed with shame. He hunched his shoulders. "Could you... give us a few days' grace period?" The nurse crossed her arms with a derisive snort. "No payment by tomorrow means discharge papers. Now scram." When Alaric's expression darkened, she turned away dismissively. His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white, Alaric seethed at the injustice of poverty. He spun around to find Jade standing frozen behind him, her beautiful features twisted with bitter disappointment. "Don't worry," he forced out through clenched teeth, "I'll get the money." Their savings had dried up long ago. Tears streamed down Jade's face as she hissed through clenched teeth, "If you have any pride left as a man, you'll swallow it and beg my parents!" "I..." Alaric's words caught in his throat. "Hah." Jade angrily wiped her cheeks, her laugh brittle with heartbreak. "Of course. Your precious pride matters more than our daughter's life." With that final realization, she turned away, her stiletto heels clicking angrily down the hall. With a helpless sigh, Alaric's phone buzzed with a new delivery request. He hurried back to his daughter's hospital room for a brief goodbye before leaving. Before he walked away, Jade delivered her final warning: "Alaric, my father's birthday is this weekend. If you want to save our marriage, go beg my parents." The choice was clear—this was Jade's patience wearing thin. As he turned to exit the hospital, a smug male voice cut him off: "Well, well, if it isn't Alaric! What's the hurry?" Looking up, he saw a sharply dressed man standing before him—tailored suit, gift basket in one hand and a Peppa Pig plush in the other. "Elandor! Who invited you?" Alaric's expression darkened instantly. Elandor—his former college best friend turned bitter rival after marrying Jade. The man had never stopped coveting her. "I did." Jade stepped forward, brushing past Alaric with an apologetic smile: "Elandor, thank you for coming. Again." Elandor's smirk transformed into a charming smile. "No trouble at all! I'm like family to Aria. I'll handle the hospital fees right away." He shot Alaric a gloating sidelong glance oozing contempt. Alaric's knuckles whitened. "Why him?" he demanded through clenched teeth. "Got a better idea? Or should we wait for them to evict Aria tomorrow?" Jade's icy glare cut deeper than the winter wind before she turned, laughing brightly at Elandor's jokes. The sight seared into Alaric's mind. His pride lay in tatters. Money. Always money. Frozen outside the hospital entrance, he finally exhaled hard, staring at the sky before dialing. "Peter, where are you? Let's meet." In the cramped rental apartment, the wiry, sun-weathered Peter slid a green Agricultural Bank card across the table. "Six thousand. It's all I've got." Alaric's hands trembled holding the plastic. "I... I won't forget this." "Cut the crap—we're brothers!" Peter grinned. "ABSOLUTELY NOT!" The door slammed open. A tall woman stormed in, face flushed with anger. "Peter! That's our engagement money! How dare you?!" This woman was Sabrina, Graham's girlfriend—moderately attractive but with a haughty personality and a judgmental streak when it came to social status. "Sabrina, it's an emergency—Aria's in the hospital. I'm just lending Alaric some cash to help out," Graham explained, stepping forward to grab her arm. Sabrina violently wrenched her arm free and sneered at Alaric. "Well well, Alaric, how many times is this now? You might have no dignity, but I sure do!" "Sabrina!" Graham snapped, tugging at her sleeve. Ignoring him, Sabrina jabbed a finger in Graham’s face. "Listen here, Graham—if you lend him that money today, we’re done. No wedding, nothing!" As their fight threatened to turn physical, Alaric set the card down on the table and stood. "Sorry, man. I’ll see you at your wedding. I’ll get out of your hair." "Don’t bother," Sabrina hissed coldly. Before Graham could chase after him, Alaric hurried out of the apartment. Behind him, the door slammed shut, followed by the furious shouts of Sabrina and Graham’s escalating fight. Alaric wandered the streets, eventually crouching on the sidewalk, phone in one hand, a cigarette in the other, lost in thought. Being poor was the root of all problems. Without money, you couldn’t move an inch. Finally, as if steeling himself, he dialed a number he hadn’t called in seven years. The line connected. "Hello? Young Master—is that really you? You’ve finally called!" The voice on the other end trembled with emotion, gruff with age and choked with feeling. Alaric sighed. "Gideon, I need money. Can you transfer me ten grand?" "Ah, Young Master, you don’t even have to ask. Ten grand? I’d give you ten billion if you needed it!" The old man’s excitement faltered slightly. "But Young Master, per your agreement with your father, accessing the family’s funds means returning to inherit the business. Why don’t you come to the company so we can discuss this?" Alaric hesitated, then relented. "Fine. I’ll head over." "Wonderful! I’ll arrange a car to pick you up immediately!" Gideon exclaimed. "No need. I’ll get there myself," Alaric said, then paused. "Which company again?" "Nexora. I’ll be waiting in the executive office," Gideon replied. Hanging up, Alaric stared at the bustling crowd around him. Well, time to come clean. Alaric was loaded—a bona fide billionaire heir. His family’s empire spanned the globe, owning stakes in nearly 70% of the world’s industries. For seven years, he’d run from this destiny, living as an ordinary man. But today, reality had backed him into a corner. If I don't work hard and stay poor, I'll have no choice but to go back and inherit the family's trillion-dollar fortune. Soon enough, Alaric pulled up to the towering Splendor Group headquarters on his Yadea electric bike. The skyscraper stood over 300 meters tall, ranking seventh among the Global 500 companies. Of course, every single company on that prestigious list was either owned or heavily invested in by the Splendor family. The moment he entered the lobby, a shrill female voice cut through the air. "Hey! Who do you think you are? Delivery personnel aren't allowed inside—get out! Call your customer to come down!" A stunning woman in a form-fitting black business suit blocked his path, her tone dripping with disdain. With her hourglass figure, flawless legs, and commanding presence, she was the epitome of a glamorous executive. "What are you staring at? Disgusting! Get out now or I'll call security!" Thalina gave him a withering glare, her lips curling in revulsion. She dealt with his kind every day—just another disposable courier to her.