Ethan exhaled slowly, his sharp eyes sweeping over Titus’ battered body who was barely clinging to consciousness, with his chest heaving in shallow gasps and his face pale beneath the streaks of blood and sweat. For all his pride and bravado, Titus had reached his breaking point.This was exactly what he was trying to avoid, but pride had gotten the better of Titus, and there he was on the ground barely breathing to stay alive.Left with no choice, Ethan stepped forward, his calm voice cutting through the cries and panic around them.“He’s going into shock,” Ethan announced, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “His body can’t take the strain anymore. The fractures, the blood loss, the exhaustion… it’s shutting him down. If he keeps gasping like this, his heart could stop at any moment.”Chloe’s head snapped up at his words, her tear-streaked face pale and trembling. Her grip on Titus’ limp arm tightened as though sheer will could anchor him to life. “W-what are you saying?” she stamme

“You think tossing a few hundreds around makes you special? Makes you look important?” The waitress snapped. It was as if something about Ethan’s very presence had provoked her—not just the issue of the bill, but a deeper irritation, the kind born out of prejudice and assumption.The café stirred. A faint murmur rippled across the tables, the clinking of cutlery pausing mid-air. A couple seated near the window exchanged a quick glance, whispering behind their hands. A man in a suit across the room gave a small shake of his head, his disapproval subtle but noticeable.The waitress, however, seemed to feed on the attention. The more eyes that turned toward them, the more force she put into her words, her pride refusing to allow her to back down. Her cheeks flushed red, her stance stiff with defiance.“This doesn’t even cover the total,” she declared, slapping the folded bill slip against the table like evidence in a courtroom. Her voice, sharp and accusing. “Are you trying to cheat us?”

Ethan watched as Bruno and Clara strutted out of the café, their laughter sharp, echoing like cruel daggers in the silence they left behind. His hand brushed lightly against the pocket where the Supreme Black Card rested.Enough.He had endured insult after insult, swallowed humiliation until it threatened to choke him—but no more. If the Supreme Black Card was going to draw attention, then let it. If the truth was going to blaze through this room, then so be it.After all, one swipe of that card, and the balance of power would tilt. The café would learn, in one instant, who truly stood above. Bruno and Clara’s arrogance would dissolve into ashes. The waitress, smug in her petty scorn, would regret every word and every glance of disdain.The crowd’s gaze clung to him, hungry, expectant. Ethan was no longer just a man with an unpaid bill—he was the unfolding spectacle, the center of gravity pulling every pair of eyes. No one dared look away. Everyone waited to see how this scene would

The morning sun was sharp against the glass towers as Ethan stepped out of the cab and onto the polished pavement. His destination loomed before him—the pristine Royal City Bank, the kind that prided itself on serving only the wealthiest clients.He pushed open the heavy doors, stepping into a hall filled with marble floors, golden accents, and a chill of artificial air. Well-dressed attendants flitted about, their smiles professional but hollow. To most of the people inside, Ethan was just another ordinary man in plain clothes, a nobody wandering into a place meant for the elite.He approached one of the counters, where a young attendant glanced up at him with practiced courtesy.“Yes, sir. How may I help you today?” she asked, her tone clipped yet not impolite.“I’d like to open an account,” Ethan said evenly.“Of course,” she replied, pulling out the necessary forms. “And what’s your initial deposit amount?”“Fifty million.”For a moment, silence. The attendant blinked, her pen f

The glass doors closed behind Ethan with a heavy thud as the guards ushered him out. The crowd of employees that had gathered in the lobby watched him go with a mixture of pity and mockery. Some chuckled under their breath, others whispered cruel jokes.“Did you see his face? He really thought he could open an account with fifty million!”“Ex-con or not, the man’s delusional.”“Emma must be regretting him every single day.”Their words slid off Ethan like rain on stone. He did not lash out, did not argue, did not even slow his steps. He walked through their ridicule with the same calm composure he had carried inside.Only when he stepped outside, into the sharp glare of the afternoon sun, did Ethan finally let his composure loosen. The cool, conditioned air of the bank had shielded him from Stella’s venom, but out here the sunlight struck him like judgment—hot, merciless and unyielding. He narrowed his eyes, exhaling slowly as if emptying his lungs of her insults.Since his return fro