The bank manager hurried down the hall, smoothing his tie and wiping the nervous sweat from his forehead. As he approached his office, he composed his posture, shoulders back, chin lifted. This was not a moment to appear anything less than perfectly respectful. He opened the door and found Celia, Barry, and Jace already inside, looking around the luxurious office in awe. The manager bowed lightly. “Good morning.” He said warmly. “Please, have a seat.” Celia blinked. “Uh… good morning, sir. Are you sure? We can stand.” “No, no.” The manager insisted with a smile. “It would be my honor if you sat.” The trio exchanged confused looks but complied. Barry leaned forward. “So, sir, about the transaction we came to confirm-” The manager raised a hand politely. “Of course. Please, tell me the situation from the beginning.” He listened with intense focus as the three explained everything. How they received alerts of nearly two billion dollars each, how they came only to confirm if the m

Celia blinked at the mention of Mira, then nodded, “Right. He’d tell her. He trusts her.” Barry raised a brow. “He likes her.” Jace rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”Celia’s brows twitched at the word “like” She took a deep breath. “Then let’s go find her. If anyone knows where Michael is… it’s definitely Mira.” Barry pulled out his phone to order a ride. “Private taxi? Or should we take two? We're stinking rich now, anyways.” “One is fine,” Celia said. “We’re going together.” Within minutes, a black private taxi pulled up in front of the bank. The driver stepped out, opened the door for them, and the trio climbed in. Barry stared out the window. “At this point… I’m starting to think we don’t know Michael at all.” Celia sighed, “Then let's go find out.” When the private taxi pulled up in front of the boutique, the trio rushed out before the driver could even finish announcing their arrival. The glass doors of the clothing store slid open automatically, and they found Mira stan

However, while dignitaries celebrated and bowed, not everyone in the mansion carried admiration in their eyes. In several quiet corners, behind polite laughter and raised glasses, a few powerful figures exchanged subtle looks assessing and plotting. Gerald Scofield was retiring. And they believed Michael, young and newly revealed to the world, would be easier to manipulate. A softer target. A gentler successor. “Gerald is making a huge mistake with this one.” Someone whispered while twirling his glass of wine. “To think the boy just graduated. This is an insult to us all.” “Imagine having to bow to a 21 year old.” “Oh well. His mistake, our gain.” Someone said then they all clinked their glasses together for a toast. Michael’s parents guided me to a private area in the mansion, an area so private that even the high-ranking dignitaries weren't allowed to wander around. Once the doors sealed behind them, the noise of the celebration faded, replaced by a heavy, tense silence. Ge

The massive banquet hall glowed with gold and crystal as the ceremony reached its peak. Every student who had received an invite stood packed together at the center-left wing, their eyes wide with anticipation. They had come expecting drama, scandal, something to gossip about for years. Tonight, they intended to watch the mysterious Scofield heir reveal himself, and laugh about how many worlds apart Michael is from the heir. At least, that had been the plan… until reality slapped them across the face the moment they spotted Barry and Jace walk in. They looked nothing like the students the campus knew. Ceila was already recognized as a beauty goddess, so her appearance didn't really shock them because they expected it. Barry and Jace though… They were dressed in outfits more expensive than the entire monthly budget of some families. Their posture was different. Their aura was different. Their entry from a convoy of cars worth millions had shut the mouths of even the most arrogant

At a distance, away from the collective shock absorbing the hall, Mira stood with her arms lightly folded, an amused curve playing on her lips. She didn’t gasp like the others, didn’t tremble, didn’t freeze. Instead, she exhaled softly and whispered with a teasing voice, “What a drama king.” Her voice was barely above a murmur, yet it held the warmth of someone who already knew the truth, someone who had been waiting for this exact moment, not for the spectacle itself, but to watch everyone else choke on their disbelief. She shook her head gently, smiling with genuine satisfaction. Michael had played his script flawlessly. He had walked in like a shadow, revealed himself like a god descending a golden staircase, and turned the entire ceremony into the climactic finale of the most dramatic urban novel ever written. It was theatrical. It was powerful. It was perfect. And Mira enjoyed every second. From her vantage point, she watched as the presenters began announcing the long lis