Arrogant Billionaire Asks Waitress for Financial Advice to Mock Her — What She Says Stuns Him
Chapter 11
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"Our bet," she said simply. "Nexus won't be above 150 by Friday. You owe $100,000 to financial literacy programs."Garrett's face twisted with rage. "This isn't over," he hissed.Felicia almost smiled. "No," she agreed. "It isn't."Garrett Whitmore was a survivor. He'd built his career on ruthlessness, on finding angles, on never admitting weakness. Even now, with his investment thesis crumbling on live television, his mind was racing through escape routes: Deny everything. Blame the SEC. Call his lawyers. Threaten to sue.He straightened his tie and forced his face into an expression of contempt."So you got lucky with one prediction," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Markets are volatile. This means nothing. By next week, Nexus will recover, and you'll be a footnote in a story nobody remembers." He threw a handful of bills on the table. "We're leaving. Phillip!" He snapped his fingers at the manager. "Get my car."He turned toward the exit."We had a bet, Mr. Whitmore." Felicia's voice stopped him. "Nexus won't be above 150 by Friday. It won't be above 50 by Friday. You owe $100,000 to financial literacy programs."Garrett didn't turn around. "Sue me."He took another step."I won't have to," Felicia said. "The SEC will do much worse."Garrett froze. When he turned back, something had changed in Felicia's face. The calm professionalism was gone; in its place was something colder, harder."You know what's interesting, Mr. Whitmore? In all your years of destroying companies and ruining lives, you never bothered to learn the names of the people you hurt. They were just numbers to you. Collateral damage."Garrett frowned. "What are you talking about?""Morrison Medical Supply. Small pharmaceutical distributor in New Jersey. You executed a hostile takeover in 2018, loaded it with debt, extracted 40 million in management fees, then let it collapse. 150 employees lost their jobs. Their pensions were wiped out."Garrett's expression flickered, just for a moment, with something like recognition. Then it was gone. "I've done hundreds of deals. I don't remember every—""The CEO fought you in court. Lost everything. Died of a heart attack six months later at 54 years old. His name was Thomas Morrison."Felicia's voice hadn't risen. If anything, it had gotten quieter."He was my mother's brother. My uncle."The room went completely silent."And my mother, Ruth Turner, was his business partner. She invested her life savings in Morrison Medical. Every penny she'd earned in 30 years of cleaning hotel rooms. When you bankrupted the company, you bankrupted her."Felicia took a step toward Garrett."She had a stroke six months after my uncle died. The doctor said it was stress-induced. She lost the ability to walk, the ability to work, almost lost the ability to speak."Another step.