Nathan’s face darkened in anger and wrath, but he forced himself to laugh because the crowd was still listening.“Stay here with Mr. Dominic Stuart,” he said. “Perhaps he will accept five dollars from you and a sincere promise that you are going to do better next year.”Celeste had moved closer with Isabella. She covered her mouth as she laughed, though she made sure Simon could hear her.“This is becoming painful,” Celeste said. “Someone should tell him to leave before he humiliates himself any further.”Isabella watched Simon but did not join the laughter this time. His calmness troubled her. Nathan had mocked Simon's job, his clothes, and his place in the room, yet Simon looked less uncomfortable than the wealthy guests watching him.An older businessman shook his head as he passed. “Poor fellow. He chose the wrong event to pretend he belonged.”The woman beside him lowered her voice. “He should leave with dignity. Staying any longer will only make it worse.”Another donor glanced

Nathan followed at an easy pace. “In my opinion, the people here are giving enough to be seen.”Celeste lifted an eyebrow. “And you?”Nathan smiled. “Well I am giving enough to be remembered.”Celeste smiled with obvious admiration. Men who spoke with that kind of confidence always caught her attention. Around them, several younger donors subtly listened in, as though Nathan's opinion carried more value simply because of the size of his family's fortune. Nathan noticed the attention and looked completely comfortable under it. Being admired had become so ordinary to him that he no longer seemed aware of it.Another group of donors passed them, speaking quietly about private foundations, government partnerships, and scholarship naming rights. Everyone inside the mansion seemed more careful with posture and tone. People stood straighter, laughed more politely, and mentioned money as if discussing weather.Unlike the lively atmosphere in the conservatory, conversations here felt calcul

Celeste leaned slightly toward him. “Perhaps the card belongs to someone else.”Isabella looked across the table. “It has his name on it.”Celeste followed her gaze. The ivory card clearly read: Mr. Simon Gallagher.For the first time, she had no immediate answer.The silence between the three of them lasted longer than any of them expected. Only a few minutes earlier, they had laughed openly at Simon for being an ordinary teacher. Now he sat among the elite donors with his own reserved seat, and none of them could explain how he had crossed a barrier that every wealthy guest believed was strictly controlled.Dinner began with warm bread, smoked fish, and a light soup served in porcelain bowls. The second course followed with roasted lamb, vegetables, and herb rice. Guests spoke softly about business, education, and public projects, but Nathan barely touched his food.Around the long table, conversations rose and fell with practiced elegance. Some guests discussed investment opportu

The accountant opened the sealed folder, and Nathan Blackwood sat straighter as if the entire ceremony had been arranged for his victory.Every face turned toward the front of the dining hall. Crystal glasses rested untouched beside expensive plates, and the soft glow from the chandeliers fell across rows of expectant guests. Nathan glanced at Simon and smiled, already imagining the humiliation that would follow when the teacher’s name failed to appear.Nathan’s first companion leaned closer. “Once the fifth name is announced, this mystery will finally end.”Nathan kept his eyes on Simon. “It already ended outside. The scrawny teacher simply refuses to understand it.”His other friend smirked. “Then perhaps public embarrassment will help him learn faster.”Nathan raised his glass slightly. “Some lessons require an audience.”The accountant adjusted his glasses and looked down at the verified records. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will begin with the fifth-largest contribution received ton

The accountant’s announcement struck the dining hall harder than any insult Nathan had thrown that evening. For several seconds, nobody moved. The only sound came from the faint hum of the air-conditioning and the soft vibration of the tablet in the accountant’s hands.Then the room broke into gasps.Several guests instinctively rose halfway from their seats before sitting back down again. Expensive cutlery lay forgotten on polished tables as every eye fixed itself on Simon. No one cared about dinner anymore. The only thing that mattered was whether the impossible had truly happened.“Eighty million dollars?” a man near the front said, gripping the edge of his chair. “He transferred eighty million dollars during dinner?”A woman beside him stared at Simon. “That is impossible. Banks do not process that kind of payment without notice.”The accountant looked down at the screen again. His fingers moved quickly as he opened the transaction details. “The payment has cleared,” he said. “It