Crown of Fortune

Chapter 7 That's Pathetic!

The sleek Bentley glided to a stop outside Lumière, the most exclusive restaurant in all of Olympus Reach.

This wasn't just any dining establishment—it was a fortress of privilege where only the city's elite could gain entry.

Membership required not just wealth, but a minimum annual spend of one million just to be considered.

And now, the restaurant's grand entrance was flanked by an unusual sight—Ethan Caldwell, the silver-haired titan of Horizon Trade Group, stood waiting with his entire executive team in perfect formation.

As the billionaire art magnate worth three billion, Ethan was no stranger to luxury. His reputation as a collector of rare antiquities was legendary in elite circles.

Yet here he stood like an anxious schoolboy, his usually impeccable suit damp with nervous sweat as he scanned the street for his mysterious guest.

The spectacle sent shockwaves through arriving patrons. A well-dressed couple froze mid-step, their champagne flutes trembling. "Is that... Ethan Caldwell playing doorman?" the woman whispered.

"What kind of god could make the Art King wait like this?" her companion murmured back.

Inside the Bentley's plush interior, Alaric's knuckles whitened around his armrest. "I said low profile," he growled through clenched teeth. "This looks like a damn presidential motorcade."

Gideon winced, his grip tightening on the wheel. "My apologies, Boss. Mr. Caldwell may have... overinterpreted your instructions."

"Bullshit." Alaric's voice could have frozen lava. "Take us to the garage. And tell your overeager friend I don't do circus acts."

As the car silently slipped away, Ethan remained at his post, every muscle taut with anticipation. He'd burned bridges and cashed in every favor to arrange this meeting—failure wasn't an option.

Standing beside him was his son, Blake, hands stuffed in his pockets with visible irritation. "Dad, who are we even waiting for? This is ridiculous, twenty minutes already," he grumbled.

Ethan shot his son a sharp look, his voice dropping to a warning growl. "Don’t embarrass me. If you screw this up, you’ll regret it."

Blake let out a sharp breath through his nose, his resentment simmering. He was supposed to be meeting friends tonight, but no—his dad had dragged him here to meet some "big-shot investor." And after all this waiting? Still no sign of the guy, just a bunch of pointless fanfare.

Then, Ethan’s phone rang. He answered, his expression shifting as he turned to the group. "Alright, everyone inside. They’re already here."

Here? A ripple of muttered complaints spread through the crowd. Blake, especially, was fuming. "What the hell?" he muttered under his breath. "I waited this long, and they couldn’t even show their faces?" But he bit his tongue, swallowing his anger as he followed his father into the restaurant.

Once inside, Ethan quickened his pace, trailing his dad as they made their way to a private dining room. The moment the door swung open, Blake’s eyes locked onto the two figures inside—one of whom was Alaric. His lip curled in disbelief.

"You’ve gotta be joking," he thought, barely suppressing a scoff. "This guy? The ‘big investor’? No way. Dad can’t be this desperate." The guy looked like a day laborer.

Blake barely held back a derisive laugh. Because of this nobody, he’d missed his night out.

Meanwhile, Ethan stepped forward, arms outstretched, beaming at the silver-haired man leaning on a cane. "At last, you honor us with your presence, Mr. Hale."

Gideon Hale offered a polite smile, offering a hand to shake.

Ethan's eyes immediately locked onto the young man beside Gideon Hale. "And this is?"

"Young Master Splendor—our investor," Gideon introduced with a warm smile.

Y-young... young master? Gideon Hale actually has a young master?!

Ethan was, after all, a chairman worth $3 billion, a prominent figure in Olympus Reach's elite circles. Though he paled next to Gideon's status as the city's wealthiest man, he knew his way around power.

Rumors claimed Gideon served a mythically wealthy dynasty—one controlling the lion's share of global wealth. The sheer power behind that title made Ethan's palms sweat.

This required groveling-level deference.

His hand trembled slightly as he reached out. "Ethan Caldwell. Honored to meet you. My deepest apologies for not recognizing you immediately, Mr. Splendor."

Alaric acknowledged him with the barest nod before getting straight to business. "How much do you need?"

Ethan glanced at Gideon, who stood silently with eyes shut in contemplation, then measured each word. "We're breaking into international art trade, with booming sales in the Free State and Valenor. We estimate needing $1 billion. You have my word on 25% equity."

A billion dollars. Not exactly small change. Even for Ethan, fronting that much cash was unimaginable.

"One billion..." Alaric mused aloud, forehead wrinkling in calculation.

The pause made Ethan's pulse spike. Asking for a billion upfront was audacious—beyond even the local Nexora Group's reach.

Then came the reply that left them dumbstruck—especially Blake, who'd written Alaric off as nobody special, now stood frozen, his earlier smirk wiped clean.

"I'll invest two billion, but I'll need 40% equity," Alaric said with an easy grin, as if quoting a trivial amount.

Two billion?!

This couldn't be real—was he dreaming?

Ethan felt blessed by fortune itself. This far exceeded his wildest expectations!

His company's total valuation barely reached three billion, and this man was casually offering two-thirds of that in a single investment!

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

Was this the financial might of a hidden elite family?

40% equity was perfectly acceptable to Ethan.

"Mr. Splendor, you're truly committing two billion?" Ethan asked, voice trembling slightly as he fought to maintain composure.

"Not enough? I can always add more," Alaric replied, his tone flat, as though commenting on something mundane.

Add... add more?!

Ethan swayed slightly on his feet. "N-no, two billion is more than sufficient!" he blurted, waving his hands frantically.

It had to be enough. With that kind of capital, Ethan could dominate the American and Valenor markets effortlessly. His company would skyrocket into the ten-billion-tier in no time.

Without delay, Ethan summoned his secretary, who hurried in carrying an elegant rectangular case. From it, he carefully unrolled an antique scroll, saying earnestly, "Mr. Splendor, this is an authentic Elias masterpiece—one of my most prized collections. Please accept this as a token of my appreciation."

As a renowned connoisseur, Ethan's gift was undoubtedly genuine. In the art world, Elias's works fetched millions, some even breaking eight figures at auction.

But compared to Alaric's investment? Paltry in comparison.

Alaric barely glanced at the painting before nodding. "Thanks, Mr. Caldwell."

With that, he casually tucked the priceless artwork under his arm and strode out of the private room, Gideon following closely behind.

The moment they stepped into the hallway, a well-dressed middle-aged man approached, his smile polite.

"Mr. Splendor, please wait a moment. I'm Hector, proprietor of Lumière."

Alaric and Gideon came to an abrupt stop, studying the middle-aged man with puzzled expressions.

When Hector caught sight of Gideon standing behind Alaric, his pulse spiked!

Exactly as predicted!

Ethan had been right—any young man worthy of being escorted by the wealthiest man in Olympus Reach was anything but ordinary.

"Master Splendor, Mr. Hale, my apologies for not greeting you sooner. Please accept this platinum VIP card for Lumière—if you'd do me the honor," Hector said with practiced charm.

He had already resolved to win Alaric's favor tonight.

Alaric took the card with barely a glance and muttered a dismissive, "Thanks."

Then, without another word, he strode away.

Gideon could clean up this mess.

After a brief pause, Gideon turned to Hector and said, "Mr. Ashley, my young master prefers discretion. If anyone asks—"

"Understood, absolutely understood! You have my word, Mr. Hale," Hector bowed his head in understanding. "No one else will learn of Master Splendor's identity."

Meanwhile, Alaric opted against riding back in Gideon's Bentley. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, looking for a rental bike, he nearly collided with Jade herself.

Damn it. Just his luck to run into her here. How was he going to explain this?

"Alaric? What are you doing here?" Jade stood at the entrance, flanked by a polished entourage of well-dressed men and women.

Her piercing gaze locked onto him, suspicion etched across her delicate features. Panicking, he blurted, "Uh—delivery. I was just dropping off an order."

Delivery? To a high-end restaurant?

Jade's delicately arched brows knitted together, her expression icing over.

Just the sight of him—meek, flustered, utterly unremarkable—made her jaw tighten. Worse, she dreaded her colleagues noticing him.

And then, like clockwork, a mocking male voice cut through the tension.

"Ah, so this is the infamous deliveryman husband, Ms. Kingsley? Rather unimpressive. Clearly he's found his calling as a kept man."