The Wrong Target

Arthur gasped. "Dad, we have to do it! Wilson promised us a twenty percent cut of the club once the deal closes... and five billion is an insane number! Not even Frank Thompson would risk losing five hundred million dollars on a single club! At five billion, we're basically guaranteed to win!"

"Five hundred million is still half of everything our family owns if things go wrong..." Jeremiah muttered, his hand shaking over the pen.

"Dad, this is our only shot to become true top-tier royalty in Manhattan!" Arthur urged through gritted teeth. "If we take the Heavens Club tonight, we run Midtown!"

Looking into his son's eyes, Jeremiah took a breath and made up his mind. "You're right. No risk, no reward... putting five hundred million on the line for a seat at the top table is worth the gamble!"

Uncapping his pen, Jeremiah pressed hard on the paper, wrote down $5,000,000,000, and signed his name across the seal.