THE RELUCTANT TYCOON

CHAPTER TWO : DON'T BE SO HAPPY

"Your uncle Raymond has men in San Francisco. They've been asking questions about a Marcus Chen who fits your description."

Marcus felt his blood go cold. But before Marcus could respond the call ended.

Marcus didn't sleep that night. He lay on the small couch in the living room, staring at the ceiling while Isabella slept behind the closed bedroom door.

At six in the morning, he gave up on sleep and got dressed. His only pair of jeans had a hole in the knee, and his jacket smelled faintly of the fried chicken from the restaurant where he'd done a delivery shift three days ago. He splashed water on his face and left the apartment before Isabella woke up.

The morning air was cold and damp. Marcus walked toward the bus stop, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He had four hours before his meeting with James, and the streets were already filling with people rushing to their jobs.

That's when he heard it. A child's voice, high and desperate.

"Please! Somebody help! My grandfather's dying!"

Marcus turned and saw a small boy, maybe seven years old, sitting on the steps of a closed pharmacy. His clothes were worn but clean, his face streaked with tears. Next to him sat an elderly man, thin and pale, breathing in shallow gasps.

Marcus walked over quickly. "What's wrong?"

The boy looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. "My grandfather needs medicine. His heart, the doctor said he needs surgery today or he'll die. But we don't have money. We don't have anyone."

The old man's lips were turning blue. Marcus knelt down and checked his pulse. Weak and irregular. This man needed a hospital immediately.

"How much does the surgery cost?" Marcus asked.

"Fifty thousand dollars." The boy's voice broke. "We only have two hundred. I've been asking people all morning, but nobody will help. They say we're lying."

Marcus pulled out his phone to call an ambulance, but the boy grabbed his arm.

"No! We already called them. They said we have to pay a deposit first or they won't take him to a good hospital. They'll just take him to the free clinic, but the free clinic can't do the surgery. He'll die there!"

Marcus felt anger burn in his chest. He knew how the system worked. Money decided who lived and who died. He'd seen it from both sides now.

"Listen to me," Marcus said firmly, looking the boy in the eyes. "Your grandfather will not die. I'll pay for the surgery. All of it."

The boy stared at him, then looked at Marcus's torn jeans, his stained jacket, his worn-out shoes. His face crumpled.

"Please don't make fun of me, mister. This isn't a game. My grandfather is dying."

"I'm not joking. I have the money."

A woman walking past stopped and laughed. "You hear that? This homeless-looking guy says he'll pay fifty thousand dollars." She pulled out her phone and took a picture. "This is going on social media. Crazy people pretending to be heroes."

More people started gathering. A man in a business suit looked at Marcus with disgust. "If you can't help, don't give the kid false hope. That's cruel."

Marcus ignored them and helped the old man stand. The grandfather was barely conscious, his weight heavy against Marcus's shoulder.

"Where's the nearest hospital?" Marcus asked the boy.

"Saint Mary's. It's ten blocks away, but they won't let us in without money. I already tried."

"They'll let us in." Marcus started walking, half-carrying the old man. The boy grabbed his grandfather's other arm, trying to help.

The crowd followed, filming on their phones, laughing and making comments.

"Look at this guy! He thinks he's a millionaire!"

"Probably wants attention. People do anything for likes these days."

"That poor kid. Someone should call child services."

Marcus kept walking. His back ached from the old man's weight, but he didn't stop. The boy walked beside him, tears streaming down his face, hope and doubt warring in his expression.

When they reached Saint Mary's Hospital, a security guard stepped in front of the entrance.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to use the public entrance around back." The guard looked Marcus up and down, his nose wrinkling. "This entrance is for registered patients only."

"This man needs emergency surgery," Marcus said. "His heart is failing."

"Then you need to go to the emergency room. Around back. They'll process him there."

"He needs surgery now. I'll pay for everything."

The guard's expression hardened. "Sir, I'm not going to ask again. Use the public entrance or I'll have you removed."

The crowd behind them was growing larger, phones recording everything. Marcus saw it in their eyes, entertainment. A poor man making a scene was just another viral video waiting to happen.

"What's going on here?" A woman in a white coat emerged from the hospital. Her name tag read Dr. Sarah Chen, Head of Cardiology.

"This man is trying to force his way in," the guard explained. "Claims he can pay for surgery, but…"

"I'm not claiming anything," Marcus interrupted. "This man needs a heart surgery that costs fifty thousand dollars. I will pay it in full right now if you get him into an operating room."

Dr. Chen looked at the old man, and her professional mask slipped. Marcus saw recognition in her eyes, she knew this man was dying.

"Sir, I understand you want to help, but making promises you can't keep…"

"I can keep it. Take me to your billing office. I'll transfer the money before you start the surgery."

"Transfer it from where?" She crossed her arms. "Look, I appreciate the sentiment, but we need payment upfront. If you're serious, you'll need to provide proof of funds."

"Fine. Let's go to billing."

Dr. Chen hesitated, then nodded. She told the guard to help get the old man inside while she escorted Marcus and the boy to the administrative office.

The billing office was cold and sterile. A woman behind the desk looked up with a practiced smile that faded when she saw Marcus's appearance.

"How can I help you?" she asked, her tone suggesting she'd rather not help at all.

"I need to pay for an emergency heart surgery. Fifty thousand dollars."

The woman's smile became condescending. "Of course. And how will you be paying today?"

"Bank transfer."

"Sir, we need verified payment before we can schedule surgery. Do you have a credit card or cashier's check?"

Marcus pulled out his wallet. Inside was his debit card, linked to an account containing more money than this hospital made in a year. But the card looked cheap, the kind banks gave out for free checking accounts.

The woman actually laughed when she saw it. "Sir, that card probably has a fifty-dollar limit. I'm going to have to ask you to leave before I call security."

"Just process it," Marcus said quietly.

"I'm not going to waste my time…"

"Process it." His voice was harder now, the tone he used to use in boardrooms when people tested his patience.

Something in his expression made the woman pause. She took the card with two fingers, like it might be dirty, and swiped it through the machine.

"Amount?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Fifty thousand dollars."

She typed in the numbers, clearly expecting the card to be declined. The whole office had gone quiet. Dr. Chen stood with her arms crossed, watching. The boy held his grandfather's hand, praying silently.

The machine beeped.

DECLINED.

The woman's smile turned triumphant. "What a surprise. Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to…"

"Try again," Marcus said. He pulled out his phone and quickly sent a text to James: Unlock Chen account. Emergency.

"Sir, the card is declined. There's no point…"

His phone buzzed. James had replied: Done. But Marcus, that account hasn't been touched in two years. It's going to raise flags.

"Try it again," Marcus repeated.

The woman rolled her eyes but swiped the card again. This time, she didn't bother hiding her smirk as she entered the amount.

The machine processed for what felt like an hour. The boy squeezed his grandfather's hand tighter. Dr. Chen checked her watch. Marcu

s stood perfectly still, his face unreadable.

The machine beeped again.