All Chapters of My Unlimited Opulence System : Chapter 11
- Chapter 20
25 chapters
The Price Of Status
The vast, high-ceilinged atrium of Elysian Fashion House hung in a stifling, heavy hush. The soft ambient jazz track had faded into a low, buzzing static from the ceiling speakers, leaving only the sharp *click-clack of cold sweat dripping off Manager Wilson’s chin onto the glass display counter.Behind him, the wireless Verifone terminal glowed with a harsh, unyielding green light.AUTHORIZATION SUCCESSFULAPPROVED - TXN #99082-AAMOUNT CLEARED: Thirty-two million four hundred eighty thousand dollars USDEvery sales associate who had snickered into their cuffs fifteen minutes earlier stood rigid against the polished mahogany pillars, their eyes glued to the floorboards. Emily’s knuckles were white where she gripped her leather tablet case, her face drained of every drop of color. Not a single staff member dared to make eye contact with the dark-navy velvet armchair in the VIP lounge.Michael sat back into the plush leather, crossing one ankle over his knee. His hands rested easily in
The Price Of Arrogance
Michael stood frozen.William strolled over, his brow furrowed in mild confusion as he looked between them. "Babe? You know this guy?"Michelle let out a short, incredulous laugh, covering her mouth with her manicured hand. "Know him? Babe, we went to NYU together!"She turned back to Michael, her eyes sweeping over his baggy, faded thermal shirt, his frayed denim, and the faint dried mud on his worn sneakers. A cruel, vicious smirk slowly spread across her face, her lip curling in disgust."So..." she purred, her voice dripping with sharp, malicious glee. "They finally let you out of lockup, huh? What was it—six months?"Her voice wasn't loud, but in the dead quiet of the luxury showroom, every single word carried like a bell. Nearby, two sales associates exchanged wide-eyed, shocked glances.Prison?Michael remained completely silent, resting his arm calmly against the velvet upholstery.Michelle crossed her arms tightly, looking down her nose at him as if he were a bug on her shoe.
The Arrival
The heavy mahogany doors clicked shut, locking out the noise of Grand Avenue.An oppressive, suffocating quiet settled over the three-story atrium.Every head in the room remained turned toward the foyer, where the soft, deliberate thunk-thunk of a silver-tipped ebony walking stick echoed off the Italian marble floor.The man holding it moved without haste. He appeared to be in his late sixties, his silver hair brushed back into clean, sharp waves, matched by a silver beard trimmed to surgical precision. His charcoal pinstripe suit fit his frame like armor, the white silk pocket square sitting flat against his chest.Behind him, two broad-shouldered men in dark suits, earpieces glinting under the halogen lights, matched his stride with silent, practiced vigilance.Manager Wilson’s knees buckled slightly as he bowed at the waist, his chin nearly touching his chest. "Mr. Vermen..."Chester Vermen offered only a fractional tilt of his head. He didn't glance at the shattered glass lining
The Revelation
Emily blinked through her tears, startled.Vermen rested both hands over the silver head of his cane. "Pride is an expensive vice, child. You just received a thirty-two-million-dollar lesson in humility. I expect you to remember it."He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping into a hard, uncompromising line."Consider this your absolute warning. If I ever hear another report of an associate under my roof turning up their nose at a customer—regardless of what they wear—you will not just be terminated. I will ensure you never work retail in the state of New York again."Emily nodded frantically, bowing again and again. "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! I understand!""Dismissed," Vermen murmured.Emily scrambled back toward the fitting rooms, wiping her eyes as the other associates let out a collective, silent exhale.Chester Vermen turned his body back around, his full, undivided attention returning to Michael Roy.There was no anger left in the old billionaire's eyes—only a deep, intense, and
The Diagnosis
Michael held Chester Vermen's left wrist, his fingers resting lightly against the old man's radial artery.Under his fingertips, a memory he hadn't revisited in months flared back to life behind his eyes.It had been his seventh night in county lockup.The heavy iron gates clanged open, rattling the concrete walls. Two guards shoved an old man into the cell block. He looked well past seventy, his long white beard flowing down his chest, unkempt silver hair falling across his face. He wore faded gray scrubs, yet his gait was unhurried. His eyes—steady, unbothered, and piercingly sharp—scanned the dim tier.The moment the old man stepped into the cramped cell, his eyes locked straight onto Michael.For five agonizing seconds, he just stared.Then, a low, rasping chuckle rumbled beneath his beard.“You,” the old man muttered, pointing a calloused finger. “You’ve got the pulse-sight in your marrow, boy.”Michael pulled back against the cold concrete wall, his brow furrowed. “The what?”Th
The Deal
Then, Chester let out a dry, forced laugh, shaking his head. "Young man... you have a flair for the dramatic. Is this part of the sales pitch for the thirty-two million?"Michael didn't smile. He didn't blink. He just stood there, his posture rigid, his face completely unreadable.Chester’s laughter slowly withered, dying in his throat. The sheer, terrifying certainty in Michael’s eyes hit the old billionaire like a bucket of ice water."My personal physician... Dr. Halloway... is the head of cardiology at Mount Sinai," Chester stammered, his voice dropping into a raspy, defensive register. "He runs full blood panels on me every six weeks! He told me my cardiac fatigue is standard arterial calcification! Age-related!"Michael shook his head slowly, a look of somber pity in his eyes. "Standard blood panels look for cholesterol, glucose, and common enzymes, Mr. Vermen. They don't test for synthetic botanical alkaloids unless someone explicitly orders a mass-spectrometry screen."Michael
A New Beginning
Before leaving the pristine, marble-floored hall of Elysian Fashion, Michael paused. He pulled an antique fountain pen from his breast pocket and drew a slip of thick cardstock from the front desk.With swift, practiced motions, his hand glided across the paper, scripting the names of several rare medicinal herbs in elegant calligraphy. He folded the card precisely along its axis and pressed it into Chester Wermen’s waiting palm."The remedy," Michael said softly, his voice carrying an unshakeable weight. "Boil them together in equal measure, exactly as written. Drink the decoction twice daily, without fail, for three days."Chester accepted the slip with a reverence usually reserved for sacred texts. He glanced at the unfamiliar Latin and Hanzi names before carefully tucking the card into the inner lining of his tailored coat."I’ll have my personal apothecary source them immediately," Chester said, his keen eyes searching Michael’s face for the slightest trace of doubt.Michael offe
Dinner Outside
Michael stepped out of his bedroom into the hallway. The scent of worn-out carpet and old wood hung in the air, but the small apartment felt lighter than it had in months.In the living room, Sarah was sitting on the edge of the worn sofa, carefully folding an old pile of laundry. Her movements were slow, her shoulders slightly hunched from years of hard work."Mom," Michael said softly.Sarah paused, a folded towel in her hands, and looked up. "Yes, sweetie?"Michael gave her a warm smile, putting his hands into his pockets. "Put that away. Get ready."Sarah blinked in confusion, setting the towel on her lap. "Get ready? For what?""We're leaving for dinner at seven," he said."So early?" Sarah glanced over at the kitchen clock, then back at him. "Michael, there’s still leftover stew in the fridge. We don’t need to spend money—""I've already made up my mind," Michael interrupted gently, walking over and taking the towel from her hands. "Tonight, we are not eating at home. No cooking
Uninvited Problem
Michael sat quietly across from his mother, occasionally glancing around the magnificent restaurant.The soft melody of a grand piano drifted through the hall, blending with the gentle clinking of glasses and silverware.Crystal chandeliers bathed the dining area in a warm golden glow.Elegant waiters moved between tables with practiced grace, serving one exquisite dish after another.Sarah couldn't help but admire the surroundings."This place is beautiful."Michael smiled."I'm glad you like it, Mom."Just then...The glass entrance doors slowly opened.A young couple walked inside.The man appeared to be around twenty-eight years old.He had neatly styled brown hair, a clean-shaven face, and an expensive silver watch wrapped around his wrist.He wore a perfectly tailored navy-blue designer suit, polished black leather shoes, and carried himself with the confidence of someone born into wealth.Beside him walked a stunning young woman.She wore a breathtaking red backless one-piece d
The Name That Changed Everything
The restaurant manager walked down the remaining steps.His polished shoes touched the marble floor one step at a time as he approached the group.At first, his attention went to Nicol and his wife.Then his eyes shifted toward Michael and Sarah.The moment he saw the situation, his expression became serious.He stopped a few feet away.“What is going on here?”His voice carried enough authority that the nearby conversations immediately became quieter.The waiter who had been arguing with Michael quickly stepped forward.“Sir, these two people are causing trouble.”He pointed toward Michael.“They're claiming this table belongs to them, but Mr. Jilliam has shown us a valid reservation.”Nicol immediately nodded.“Exactly.”He adjusted his expensive jacket before continuing.“I don't know where these people came from, but they refused to leave even after we explained that this table was reserved.”His wife stood beside him with a satisfied smile.She glanced at Michael and Sarah as if