Ex-Convict To Mysterious Power

Chapter 4

One of the staff moved swiftly to the manager.

“It’s this man over there, sir. We’ve tried our best to ask him to leave without causing trouble, but he won’t budge.” He quickly filled the manager in on everything.

Tiffany stepped forward like she was entering a fashion runway. “Is this how you treat VIPs here?” she asked, flashing her silver card like it was a royal decree.

In this shopping mall, there were three types of cards. Bronze—entry-level—required at least two million dollars in spending. Then silver, for those who'd dropped five million.

And the top of the pyramid, the gold card.

You had to spend at least ten million dollars to even dream of touching one.

Tiffany proudly waved her silver card under the manager’s nose. The manager glanced at Amanda’s hand. Bronze.

He didn’t hesitate.

“Please leave, ma’am,” he said, voice clipped. “Take him with you.”

Amanda froze. Her fingers tightened on the bronze card.

Then Cole reached into his pocket and pulled out a card.

A black card with gold edges.

There was something dark about it. Like it wasn’t just money—it was power. Influence. Authority. The kind of card that made people’s stomachs twist just looking at it.

The manager froze.

He’d only heard of that card. Fewer than ten existed. Issued personally by the founder of the Luxury Foundation.

This... this couldn't be real.

How could a man who just got out of prison—someone dressed so plainly, so casually—be holding a card like that?

The manager’s instincts kicked in. He subtly signaled the security team to circle in.

This had to be stolen.

There was no way this man had earned a card like this. No way.

With great care, he took the card from Cole. “Where did you get this?” he asked, his tone now tight, suspicious, and a little afraid.

Cole raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to explain that to you?”

“No, not if you don’t want to,” the manager said casually. “But there are less than ten of these in the world.”

Tiffany scoffed, loud and dramatic. “He must have stolen it. What can’t a rapist do, huh?”

“What a shame,” Derek sighed like he’d just found out a distant relative disgraced the family name. “Went right back to his criminal ways the second he got out.”

“You can check it,” Cole said with a shrug, like he couldn’t care less. “If you really think I’d waste my time faking something like this.”

Amanda frowned. “What’s going on?” She glanced at the card again. She’d never seen anything like it—but the manager’s reaction wasn’t the look of someone handling a fake.

The manager didn’t say a word. He walked briskly to the back counter and slotted the card into the scanner.

“If this turns out to be fake,” he muttered, eyes locked on the screen, “you’re not leaving this place in one—”

The scanner beeped softly, cutting him off. the man's eyes locked onto the screen. His breath caught.

Cole Bennett.

The name was stamped across the top. Below it, a high-clearance profile—photo, date of birth, blood type, status… all verified. All real.

His hands trembled slightly.

Sweat clung to his temples as his eyes locked on the screen, then back at Cole—like he was looking at a ghost… or worse, a god in disguise.

He turned to say something, but Cole casually raised a hand—silence.

And the manager obeyed. Without hesitation, he bowed. A full ninety degrees.

“I… I’m so… so sorry, sir,” the manager stammered, still bent.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

They still didn’t understand what kind of card that was, and worst still why the manger was suddenly bowing to a “rapist”.

The manager straightened a little, his voice more composed but still trembling. “I sincerely apologize for not recognizing a true VIP.”

Tiffany blinked fast, like the glitch in her brain was buffering. Then she stepped forward with the confidence of someone who still didn’t get it.

“Hey, mister manager, don’t you think you’ll regret this?” she asked, still waving her silver card like it meant something now. “This man is an ex con—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Two security guards moved in without a word, grabbing her clean off the floor—one by each arm.

“What the hell?!” Tiffany shrieked as her feet barely touched the ground. “Put me down! I have a silver card! That’s five million dollars in spending!”

The manager didn’t even look at her.

His full attention remained on Cole.

“Are you all crazy?!” Tiffany screamed, thrashing in the arms of the guards.

Derek stepped forward and yanked a card from his pocket. He shoved it in the manager’s face. “You don’t want to regret this. Let go of my fiancée. Now.”

The manager gave a slow, deliberate blink, then said with a smirk, “Apologies, sir. Our mall isn’t equipped to accommodate noble guests like you and your fiancée.”

The sarcasm on “noble” was thick enough to choke a bear.

Derek’s face turned crimson, his jaw twitching in rage. “What the hell is the meaning of this nonsense?”

“Escort them out,” the manager said coldly. “Let them go figure out what’s going on outside.”

Tiffany suddenly broke free with a scream. “You cursed jinx!” She lunged at Cole, raising her hand to slap him—

But she was too slow.

Cole had already stepped back.

SLAP!

Her hand smacked right across Derek’s cheek.

The entire room froze.

Tiffany blinked, stunned. “B-Babe, I—”

She lost her balance and fell, arms flailing, phone flying from her hand and landing right at Cole’s feet. The screen was on.

Cole didn’t even have to touch it. The screen was clear.

A string of explicit photos. Sent to a contact saved as: #Hubby2.

The crowd gasped.

Tiffany scrambled for the phone like her life depended on it—but Cole beat her to it. With a light kick, the phone slid across the polished floor… and stopped right at Derek’s feet.

Derek picked it up.

His face darkened. The type of darkness you don’t come back from. Then, without a word, he looked up at Tiffany.

SLAP!

The sound echoed across the store like a gunshot. Gasps again.

A second later, the deep red mark of his palm painted her cheek.

He didn’t say a word.

He just turned and stormed out of the mall, leaving Tiffany crumpled on the floor.

“No no! Babe! Derek! It’s not what you think!”

“Don’t leave me alone! Derek! You can’t do this to me!”

Breathing heavily now, Tiffany stood, her dignity in tatters but still trying to lash out.

“This is all on you, you freaking bitch!”

“You think you can ruin my marriage? Hell no!”

“Even without Derek, I can still land another rich bastard!” Tiffany’s eyes were bloodshot, her voice hysterical.

“You’ll spend your whole damn life getting used by a fucking rapist—used for free, you pathetic little whore!”

She grabbed a vase from the decor rack and hurled it at Amanda.

Another gasp.

But the vase never hit.

Cole moved faster than anyone could react. He pulled Amanda out of the way just in time. The vase shattered behind them, glass scattering across the floor.

“Are your security guards just for show?!” Cole shielded his wife, heart still pounding. Everything had happened so fast—he didn’t even want to imagine that vase hitting Amanda.

“Are you all blind?! Get this lunatic out of here!”

The manager barked orders at the guards, bowing respectfully as they dragged the screaming Tiffany off the floor and tossed her out. A crowd had gathered at the door, phones out, recording every second.

“Is there anything else I can assist you with, sir?” the manager asked obsequiously.

“My wife had her eye on something earlier,” Cole replied, pulling out the black card.

This time, no one dared question a thing.