A Trillionaire Pauper

Chapter 5

Clinton and his father stepped into Mr. Desmond’s sleek, glass-walled office with confident strides, their shoulders squared, their chins raised. The room itself screamed wealth—polished marble floors, minimalist furniture crafted from rare wood, and a panoramic view of the city stretching endlessly beyond the windows.

This meeting was supposed to be simple.

Routine.

A discussion about business.

One that would elevate the Voss family from a respectable half-a-billion-dollar net worth to crossing the sacred billion-dollar threshold.

Clinton glanced at his father and smiled.

His father smiled back.

They both understood what this opportunity meant.

To Clinton, it meant everything.

More money meant more dominance on campus. More influence. More fear. He would officially become the richest student in school. Professors would tolerate him more. Students would worship him. Girls—every single one of them—would line up, desperate to be seen on his arm. Anyone who once mocked or ignored him would suddenly want to be his “friend.”

To his father, the benefits were even sweeter.

More lavish vacations with his wife—and his mistresses. Louder parties. Bigger deals. The ability to look down on former friends who once believed they were richer than him. He would challenge those who disrespected him, crush rivals with ease, and expand his empire without restraint.

And the best part?

Mr. Desmond.

An old-time friend of the Voss family.

When Desmond had been promoted to a senior executive position at Hale Empire headquarters, the first people he thought of were the Vosses. After all, helping them meant helping himself—he had stakes in their empire too.

Seeing Clinton and his father seated comfortably in front of him, Desmond felt pleased.

“Gentlemen,” he began warmly, standing to greet them. “It’s been far too—”

The door swung open.

Click.

The sound cut through the room like a blade.

Lizzy Gold walked in.

Her heels struck the polished floor with sharp, deliberate clicks, each step echoing authority. Her presence alone made the air feel heavier. Clinton and his father instinctively lowered their heads, bowing slightly in what they believed was appropriate respect.

But Lizzy didn’t even look at them.

Her gaze swept across the room like a cold storm.

“How dare you,” she said flatly, her voice cutting through the space, “come into this office and show such blatant disrespect to the owner of this company.”

The words slammed into the room.

Clinton’s father stiffened, his confidence cracking.

“Excuse me?” he asked, flustered but still trying to maintain composure. “We would never do such a thing. We hold Hale Empire in the highest regard.”

Clinton nodded quickly. “Yes, we’re here on Mr. Desmond’s invitation. We would never—”

Lizzy cut him off with a flick of her hand.

“Silence.”

Her tone was ice-cold.

“I have seen the way you carry yourselves,” she continued calmly. “Bowing. Pretending. Performing respect while completely failing to honor the true master of this place.”

Confusion flooded Clinton’s face.

His father exchanged a bewildered glance with him.

True master?

Mr. Desmond’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, Lizzy, I—”

“You don’t know, do you?” Lizzy sneered, her gaze sharp. “This isn’t about me. It isn’t about you, Desmond. And it certainly isn’t about your meaningless deal.”

She stepped forward.

“This is about the real owner of this empire.”

The words hung in the air.

“The one you’ve all underestimated.”

Clinton’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

His father’s hands trembled slightly.

Underestimated?

The only person they had an issue with was Kendrick—and that was ridiculous.

There was no way.

No way that pathetic errand boy had anything to do with this.

Lizzy’s patience snapped.

“Enough of this.”

She raised her hand sharply.

“Security.”

The guards stepped in immediately.

“Take them out,” she commanded. “Now.”

Clinton’s father panicked.

“Wait! Wait!” he shouted, hands raised. “This is a misunderstanding! Desmond, say something!”

Clinton scrambled backward. “You can’t do this! We’re guests!”

But it was already too late.

The guards seized them without hesitation.

They were dragged toward the door, stumbling, humiliated, voices breaking as they begged. Papers fell. Chairs scraped. Their dignity shattered with every step.

Mr. Desmond stood frozen.

Helpless.

The man who thought he was untouchable had just witnessed something terrifying.

The first public display of Kendrick Hale’s hidden power.

…

Later that day, Kendrick decided it was time to change a few things.

He needed clothes.

And gifts.

For Zara and Jayson—his only real friends.

He rode quietly into the city and stepped into La Lumière, one of the most high-end boutiques in the entire district. The kind of place where silk suits cost more than most people’s annual salaries.

Soft classical music floated through the air. The floors gleamed like mirrors.

Kendrick walked in wearing his tattered hoodie and worn sneakers.

Judgment followed instantly.

A young salesgirl leaned toward her colleague and whispered—loud enough for him to hear.

“Who let him in? He looks like he’s about to steal something. There’s no way he can afford anything here.”

Kendrick pretended not to hear.

He approached the counter calmly.

“I need help finding something,” he said politely. “Could you assist me?”

The salesgirl raised an eyebrow, scanning him from head to toe.

“Uh… sure,” she replied slowly. “Sir.”

The doubt in her voice was obvious.

As Kendrick browsed, asking about bags and accessories for Zara, the boutique door opened again.

Bryan walked in.

Beside him was Melissa.

Their eyes locked onto Kendrick instantly.

“Well, well,” Bryan sneered loudly. “Look who it is.”

He laughed. “I thought you were just some poor kid. What are you doing here? Planning to steal something?”

Melissa smirked, crossing her arms.

“Or maybe he finally realized he can’t afford anything fancy and decided to apply as a sales representative,” she mocked. “Look at him.”

Laughter rippled softly through the store.

Kendrick didn’t respond.

He calmly asked the salesgirl for a befitting bag for his friend.

Then he reached into his pocket.

And pulled out the black card.

The salesgirl froze.

She leaned toward her colleague, whispering urgently.

“I… I don’t think this is real. That card—I mean…”

Bryan burst into loud laughter.

“See?” he shouted. “Told you! No way he can buy anything here!”

Kendrick gently placed the card on the counter.

“Please,” he said calmly. “Confirm its validity.”

The salesgirl swallowed.

She swiped the card.

Typed.

Checked again.

Her face drained of color.

“This… this can’t be right,” she stammered. “Where did you steal this from? It—it can’t be yours.”

She hurriedly called for the manager.

The manager arrived quickly—a sharp-eyed woman with an authoritative presence.

She took the card.

Checked once.

Twice.

Her expression shifted instantly.

She bowed slightly.

“Sir,” she said respectfully. “I sincerely apologize for doubting you. The card is valid.”

The entire boutique froze.

“I also apologize for the treatment you received from my staff,” the manager continued.

The salesgirl stood motionless, mortified.

The contrast between Kendrick’s calm demeanor and his worn clothes only amplified the shock.

The manager turned sharply toward Bryan and Melissa.

“Mocking a high-valued customer is unacceptable,” she said coldly. “You are no longer allowed in this boutique.”

Bryan scoffed. “You can’t be serious—”

Slap.

The sound echoed sharply.

“Out,” the manager snapped. “Now.”

Security guards moved instantly.

Bryan and Melissa were dragged toward the exit, faces burning with humiliation.

They couldn’t believe it.

They had just been slapped.

Because of Kendrick.

The salesgirls rushed forward, bowing repeatedly, stammering apologies, begging for forgiveness.

Kendrick finished his shopping calmly.

A Birkin bag for Zara.

A Rolex wristwatch for Jayson.

And a few casual outfits for himself.

He walked out of La Lumière like a king—

Still in tattered clothes.

Behind him, Bryan and Melissa stood broken, humiliated, and powerless.

For the first time…

The world had begun to turn.