Ascension of the Untouchable Billionaire.

Chapter 4. Balance

Joyce and Anna stumbled out of the Apex Sovereign Bank, their faces burning with humiliation and rage. 

The whispers and stares of passersby felt like physical blows.

Their carefully constructed image of wealth and status had been shattered in a matter of minutes, all thanks to Noah Stone.

"That… that greasy little worm!" Joyce spat, her voice trembling with fury. "He humiliated us! He'll pay for this, Anna, you hear me? He will pay!"

Anna, equally enraged, nodded vehemently. "He won't get away with this, Mom. We'll make sure of it. Nicole needs to know what he's done. She needs to see him for the lying, thieving scumbag he really is."

"Exactly!" Joyce exclaimed, her eyes narrowing. "Nicole needs to understand that she dodged a bullet. Imagine being married to a criminal! It would ruin her reputation, destroy her company!"

They hurried towards their car, their minds racing with schemes of revenge. 

They were convinced that Noah had somehow scammed or stolen the Black Card, and they were determined to expose him before he could do any more damage.

"I'm calling Nicole right now," Anna said, grabbing her phone. "She needs to hear this from us, before that… that con artist has a chance to spin his lies."

***

Meanwhile, Nicole was preparing for the annual Dublin Charity Gala, a glittering event that was a highlight of the city's social calendar. 

She stood before a full-length mirror, admiring her reflection. 

She wore a stunning white gold gown that accentuated her figure, and her hair was styled in elegant waves. 

Tonight was crucial for Nicholson Industries. She needed to impress the right people, secure new investors, and solidify her position as a rising star in the business world.

Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. 

It was her mother. She swiped on answer immediately, bringing the device to her ear.

"Mom? What's wrong?"  

"Nicole, darling, you won't believe what just happened," Joyce said, her voice laced with hysteria. "That… that Noah! He attacked me! Right in front of the Apex Sovereign Bank!"

"Attacked you?" Nicole gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "What do you mean, attacked you? Are you okay?"

"He pushed me to the ground!" Joyce wailed. "I could have broken my hip! And then, he started flashing some fake Black Card, pretending to be some big shot! He's involved in some kind of theft or fraud ring, Nicole! I'm telling you, he's a criminal!"

"A Black Card theft?" Nicole repeated, her brow furrowing. "Noah? That doesn't sound like him."

"Don't be naive, Nicole!" Anna chimed in, her voice shrill. "He's been playing you for a fool all along! He probably stole that card, or worse, he's part of some dangerous gang! And to make matters worse, because of him, that Dubois woman took away our Bronze Card and banned us from the bank!”

Nicole felt a cold pit of disappointment settle in her stomach. She had expected Noah to be hurt, perhaps even bitter, but to turn to fraud? 

To assault her mother? It felt like a confirmation of every reason she had for leaving him. 

He was a sinking ship, and he was trying to pull her down with him.

"I’ll handle it, Mom," Nicole said, her voice hardening. "I’m preparing for the Harmony Gala tonight. I’ll call Noah and tell him to end this madness before the police get involved before I leave.”

***

Inside the bank, the atmosphere was the polar opposite of the chaotic street. 

Chantel led Noah through a corridor of polished obsidian and soft, recessed lighting. 

Every staff member they passed stopped and bowed deeply but the director barely paid them any mind, her focus entirely on her surprise guest.

They entered the "Sanctum," a private suite reserved only for the nine Sovereign holders. 

The air was perfectly climate-controlled, smelling of old parchment and expensive cedar. 

Chantel gestured to a high-backed chair made of hand-stitched leather.

"Please, Monsieur Noah. Sit. May I offer you a vintage? Or perhaps something more... substantial?" Her eyes traced his frame with a predatory gleam. 

She was used to dealing with wrinkled old men and soft-handed heirs.

 Seeing the raw, calloused power of a man who looked like he had lived with bears all his life was... intoxicating.

"I just want to know if the card is real," Noah said, his voice echoing in the quiet room.

Chantel walked to a sleek, integrated terminal on a desk made of a single slab of malachite. "Of course. If you would be so kind as to provide your biometric confirmation and the PIN?"

Noah stepped forward. He felt a strange sense of familiarity with the high-tech interface. 

His fingers moved with a grace that didn't belong to a mechanic. He swiped the card. 0-7-1-9.

The screen flickered, a deep blue light bathing his face. For a moment, the system seemed to hesitate, running encryptions that spanned across global servers. 

Then, the silence was broken by a soft, melodic chime.

The balance appeared.

Noah’s breath hitched. 

He had spent the last three years counting pennies, worrying about whether he could afford the lifestyle of his wife and his in-laws and how many hours of overtime he would have to take to pay their monthly bills.

The number on the screen didn't even look like money.

 It looked like a phone number, extending across the display in a string of zeros that defied comprehension.

$1,420,000,000,000.42

Trillions.

Chante, standing beside him, let out a soft, shaky breath. 

Even for her, the sight was staggering. "It seems," she whispered, her red lips ghosting near his ear, "that the Nexus Group has been very, very busy in your absence. This is merely your liquid personal account, Monsieur. It does not include the holdings in Nicholson Industries, the European tech conglomerates, or the private military contractors. You are not just a wealthy man. You are the economy."

Rebecca was right. 

He was…. actually rich.

It was absurd, impossible, yet the evidence was right there in front of him

"I… I don't understand," he stammered. "How can I have this much money? I don't even remember where I got this much money from."

"That is something we hope you can recover," Chantel said, her voice gentle. "Perhaps with time and the right assistance, your memories will return."

Before Noah could process the weight of it, his phone, a cracked, four-year-old budget model, began to vibrate violently in his pocket.

The caller ID read ‘Nicky’

Noah felt a flicker of the old warmth, followed immediately by a sharp, icy pang of memory: Nicole standing by the white Mercedes, telling him he was "yesterday's news."

He answered. "Nicole?"

"Noah, stop it," her voice came through, sharp and clinical. "I heard what happened at the bank. My mother is in tears, and Anna is traumatized. I don't know what kind of game you're playing with stolen cards or fake identities, but it ends now. Do you have any idea how much damage you're doing to my reputation? Nicholson Industries is on the verge of a Tier-One merger. If my name is linked to a common fraudster, it’s over."

Noah looked at the screen showing $1.4 trillion. He looked at Chante, who was watching him with the intensity of a hawk.

"Your mother lied to you, Nicole," Noah said, his voice devoid of the warmth he used to give her. "I didn't touch her. And the card isn't fake."

"Don't lie to me, Noah! What you're doing is madness!" Nicole snapped. "You're nobody. You’ve been a nobody for three years. People like you don't just 'get' black cards. I’m giving you one chance. Go to the police station. Turn yourself in for the fraud and the assault. If you do it now, Steven can use his influence to get you a lighter sentence. Please... don't make me regret ever knowing you."

"I don't think you need to worry about that," Noah said quietly. "Because from this moment on, you don't know me at all. Goodbye, Nicole."

"Noah? Noah! Don't you dare—"

He pressed the end-call button and stared at the phone for a second before placing it face-down on the desk. 

The ties were cut. She had no right to judge him anymore.

"A domestic dispute, Monsieur?" Chantel asked, her voice brimming with mocking sympathy. "A woman like that... To leave you….she must be so foolish."

Noah turned to her slowly, lips pulling into a frown, "You….. You said the bank has industries. Investments. If I wanted to... make a presence felt. How would I do that?"

Chantel’s eyes lit up. 

This was the Chairman she had heard stories about. 

The man who could collapse a currency with a swipe of his hand.

Chantel needed to get him on her side immediately.

Smiling sweetly, she leaned down into his space, enjoying the way his unshaven cheeks flushed slightly and the peak of her stretched neck.

"We have everything. Real estate, media, manufacturing. But if you wish to see and be seen, there is no better stage than the Harmony Gala tonight. It is the city’s premier charity auction. Every 'player' in this city will be there, including the Imperial Shinren family. I can offer you as much assistance as you need to get back on your feet." She fluttered her lashes, smile widening when his face got even redder.

Noah was about to nervously decline, the idea of a tuxedo and small talk made his skin crawl, until Chantel tapped the screen of a tablet, showing the auction catalog.

"There are many rare items. Art, land deeds, and... this."

She swiped to a page featuring an antique display case. Inside was a ring. 

It was tarnished silver, identical in make and weight to the one Rebecca had given him earlier that morning. 

But where his ring had a gold inlay of a lion, this one featured a different pattern—a series of interlocking gears.

The moment Noah’s eyes landed on the image, a white-hot spike of pain shot through his brain.

A rainy night. The smell of ozone. A woman’s scream. Kind green eyes blurring with tears. 

"Don't go!"

He gasped, clutching the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white. 

The memory was gone as fast as it had arrived, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache and a sense of desperate urgency.

"That ring," Noah rasped, his eyes fixed on the screen. "Where did it come from?"

"It’s part of a private estate sale," Chantel said, her voice concerned. "The 'Astraea Collection.' Very mysterious. Are you alright, Monsieur?"

Noah's face was pale, eyes never straying from the screen.

“You promise that you'll help me however you can?" His voice was low, almost mellow as he spoke and Chantel knew immediately that this was something serious to him. 

So she nodded her head sharply, expression fierce “Of course. Anything." 

"Then I need to be at that gala," Noah said, his voice echoing with strange new authority. "And Chante?"

"Yes, Monsieur?"

"I'm going to n

eed a suit. Something that doesn't get me chased out as soon as I come in."

Chantel smiled, a sharp, beautiful expression that promised carnage. "I shall call the tailors immediately."