Downtown Los Angeles, a backstreet in the old district.The midday sun blazed down on the ground, baking everything mercilessly. The air was thick with heat waves and the smell of car exhaust. Adam Walker gripped the handles of his rickshaw, body bent forward, waiting for customers at the busiest intersection of the old district. His white T-shirt was soaked through with sweat, clinging to his body and outlining his solid muscle. The cuffs were frayed, but he couldn't bear to buy a new one—every penny had to be saved."Hey, Walker! Come here!"Across the street, a fat man in a floral shirt and a cigar in his mouth waved at him. That was his boss, Tony Moretti—the notoriously stingy contractor in the old district who specialized in exploiting workers without status or connections.Adam pulled the rickshaw and ran over: "Mr. Moretti, what's the matter?"Tony pulled a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket, licked his finger, counted out a few, and handed them to Adam: "This month's wages

New York Bank, the most mysterious private bank in Manhattan's financial district.Their client list was never made public. It was said that the minimum deposit was ten million dollars. In this city, the name "New York Bank" was itself a symbol of status.Adam Walker ran all the way.He was shirtless, wearing those worn sneakers on his bare feet, carrying a black garbage bag on his shoulder, running breathlessly through the streets of Manhattan. Passersby turned their heads—where was this dirty vagrant going?The New York Bank building was just ahead.Adam pushed open the heavy glass door. Before he could step inside, a security guard in a black uniform blocked him."Stop right there." The guard frowned, looking him up and down. "This is a private bank. Unauthorized personnel are not allowed inside.""I'm here to do some business," Adam said.The guard snorted: "Do business? Do you know what kind of place this is?"As a security guard at New York Bank, Jack Wilson had seen plenty of r

The numbers on the tablet screen in front of Adam were dazzlingly clear.It started with 12, followed by eight zeros.1.2 billion dollars.Adam's mind went blank.Ten minutes ago, he was a rickshaw puller haggling with a contractor over eighty dollars, living in the janitor's room of an old apartment building, eating the cheapest fast food. Now, 1.2 billion dollars had crashed down on him, leaving him stunned.He leaned back on the leather sofa and stared at that number for a long time."Mr. Walker?" Viola Sinclair said softly. "Are you alright?"Adam didn't answer. His ears were ringing. Only one thought filled his mind—the woman named Sarah Jenkins hadn't lied to him.He really had been very wealthy. No, not had been—he still was very wealthy.The people who had mocked him, looked down on him, abandoned him because he was poor—if only they knew.Grace's face appeared before him. She had taken Marcus's arm and looked at him with disgust, calling him a useless nobody.If she knew ther

Old district, outside Moretti Rickshaw Stand.Adam picked up an old backpack from the janitor's room and dusted it off. This was all he had accumulated over three years—a few old clothes, a pair of worn sneakers, an old wallet, and a faded photograph.Jerome stood beside him with a worried expression and sighed: "Adam, you were too impulsive. Tony has been around this area for years and knows a lot of people. If we've offended him, it'll be hard for us to find work in the old district again. And the wages he owes us—he'll probably just keep them.""Grace and I are already divorced," Adam said calmly."What?" Jerome was taken aback. "Divorced?""Yeah. To be precise, I was kicked out." Adam smiled bitterly and lifted the old backpack in his hand. "I signed the divorce papers this morning. They packed up all my things and threw them out.""Well..." Jerome opened his mouth, not knowing what to say.He had known Adam since Adam woke up with amnesia three years ago. He knew how much Adam ca

"You're being completely unreasonable," Jerome said, unable to hold back any longer.Lucy glanced at him and snorted: "What business is it of yours? A rickshaw puller butting in?"Jerome wanted to say more, but Adam stopped him with a hand. He looked at Lucy, his tone calm but carrying a hint of coldness: "I can't be bothered arguing with you. But remember this—you, Grace, and all your relatives will regret this someday.""Regret?" Lucy laughed like she'd heard a good joke. "Why? Because you're going to make something of yourself pulling rickshaws?"Adam couldn't be bothered to waste more words on her. He exhaled: "Jerome, let's go.""Stop right there!" Lucy saw Adam trying to leave and put her hands on her hips. "You damaged my scooter. You need to pay for it. And pick up these papers from the ground!"Adam felt a surge of anger.These people—they were so used to bullying him.He exhaled slowly, ignored Lucy, turned, and left with Jerome."Hmph! Useless!" Watching Adam's back, Lucy c