Rise Of The Imprisoned Student

CH-7

 

As Andrew kept shouting for the manager, his voice grew louder, sharper—like he needed the entire street to hear him.

“Manager!” he yelled again, pointing at Alex. “Come quick! We have a thief here!”

The noise drew more attention immediately and more customers turned.

Within seconds, the once elegant boutique turned into a scene of whispers and curiosity.

Shortly after footsteps echoed from the back and the manager appeared.

His expression was already filled with impatience.

“What is going on here?” he asked coldly, scanning the room.

Then his eyes landed on Alex.

Then the shirt.

Andrew stepped forward immediately, almost tripping over himself in his eagerness “Sir, this man is trying to steal.”

The word spread through the crowd instantly.

“I knew it.”

“Look at him.”

Andrew pointed at the shirt. “He picked up a Sanchez Maurino t-shirt worth one million dollars. And look at him,” Andrew added, gesturing at Alex’s clothes. “Does he look like he can afford that?”

The manager looked Alex up and down—faded hoodie, loose jeans, worn shoes.

“Call security,” the manager said.

“Yes, sir!” Andrew’s grin widened as he immediately signaled the security.

The manager raised his voice slightly.

“Lock the doors.”

The security guards at the entrance reacted instantly.

Click.

The glass doors shut firmly.

Alex remained still, glancing briefly at the door before looking back at the manager, calm as ever.

The manager stepped closer.

“So,” he said coldly, “you thought you could walk in here and steal?”

“I wasn’t stealing,” Alex replied calmly.

Andrew scoffed. “Of course not. You were just admiring it, right?”

A few people laughed.

Alex said nothing.

The manager narrowed his eyes. “Still acting arrogant?”

Before Alex could respond—

SLAP!

Alex’s head tilted slightly from the impact.

For a brief second, everything went quiet.

Then slowly…

He turned his head back. His face remained calm. No anger, no shouting, just cold indifference.

The manager snorted and grabbed the shirt. “Let me see that.”

He pulled it roughly.

RIP!

The fabric tore.

The manager paused for a second—then turned to Alex angrily.

“Look at what you did!” he shouted. “You tore it!”

Alex looked at the shirt, then back at him.

“…I did?” he asked calmly.

Andrew jumped in. “Yes, you did! Everyone saw it!”

“You were holding it. You ruined it!”

Alex let out a slow breath. “You snatched it. It tore because of you.”

The manager laughed coldly. “Listen to him. Blaming others already.” 

The manager raised the torn shirt. “This is one million dollars,” he said slowly as he stepped closer. “And now it’s damaged. So tell me… how are you going to pay?”

Alex didn’t answer.

The manager smirked. “Exactly. You can’t.”

Andrew laughed. “Even if he sells himself, he won’t reach half!”

The crowd burst into laughter.

Alex spoke calmly. “I said I wanted to buy it.”

Silence.

Then laughter exploded again.

The manager shook his head. “You?” he said mockingly. “You don’t even look like you can afford the hanger.”

“You came dressed like a beggar, touched what you can’t afford, and destroyed it,” the manager continued coldly. “And you expect me to believe you that you wanted to buy it?”

“You know what happened,” Alex said.

“Careful,” the manager replied. “You’re not in a position to argue.”

Andrew crossed his arms. “Sir, call the police. Let them drag him out.”

“Yes, let’s see him in handcuffs,” the crowd cheered.

Alex ignored them.

The manager folded his arms. “Let’s make this simple. You damaged store property.”

He tilted his head. “Since you can’t pay… you’ll take responsibility another way.”

The meaning was clear.

Alex spoke again. “You tore it.”

“Enough!” the manager snapped.

Then suddenly, he smiled.

“Fine. Let’s see whose story the owner believes.”

He tapped his chest. “Me… or a nobody like you.”

The manager pulled out his phone and dialed.

The boutique went quiet instantly.

It wasn't long before the call connected.

“What is it?” a calm female voice said immediately the call connected.

“Miss!” the manager said urgently. “Something terrible happened! A thief tried to steal a Sanchez Maurino t-shirt—and tore it when we caught him!”

The crowd leaned in.

“That’s not what happened,” Alex tried to explain.

The manager ignored him. “Please come with the police before he runs!”

There was a brief pause.

“What?” the woman said from the other end. “A thief tore it?”

“Yes!” the manager quickly replied.

“I’ll be there immediately,” the owner said quickly and ended the call.

Click.

The manager lowered his phone and smiled at Alex. “You’re finished.”

The crowd reacted instantly.

“Finally.”

“Serves him right.”

Alex stood calmly.

“I didn’t tear anything,” he said.

“Save it for the police,” the manager replied.

Minutes passed and the tension in the boutique grew.

Everyone kept glancing at the door.

Waiting, excited.

Like children waiting for a show to begin.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

The security guard immediately rushed to the door and opened it.

Two uniformed police officers stepped in.

Behind them was a tall, elegant woman, Isabella Moretti.

The moment Isabella stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.

The crowd buzzed with excitement.

The manager hurried forward like a loyal dog.

“Miss!” he called respectfully.

Isabella's eyes scanned the store.

“Where is the thief?” she asked.

The police officers stepped forward slightly and the crowd parted quickly.

Everyone pointed toward Alex.

“There!”

“That’s him!”

“He’s the one!”

The manager quickly stepped beside her and pointed directly at Alex.

“This is him,” he said confidently. “He tried to steal the shirt and tore it.”

The police officers turned toward Alex and were about to step forward—

“Wait.”

Isabella suddenly raised her hand.

Her eyes locked onto Alex.

For a moment she said nothing before her expression changed slightly into recognition.

She had seen him before.

At the bank.

The same man who made an entire bank go silent.

The same man worth over eight hundred billion dollars.

The manager didn’t notice.

He kept talking proudly.

“Miss, don’t worry. We caught him before he could escape. These kinds of people—”

SLAP!

The sound echoed loudly across the boutique.

The manager froze.

His head snapped to the side.

The entire crowd went still.

Everyone’s eyes widened.

The manager slowly turned back, holding his cheek.

“Miss…?” he said, stunned.

Before he could say anything else Isabella spoke. “Do you even know who you’re talking about?”

The manager blinked. “What?” he said, confused.

She pointed at Alex. “This man,” she said slowly, “is worth more than eight hundred billion dollars.”

Silence.

Dead silence.

The manager stared at her.

Then suddenly laughed awkwardly.

“Miss… with all due respect,” he said carefully, “are you feeling alright?”

The manager continued, shaking his head. “Maybe you’re not feeling well. Or maybe someone misinformed you.”

He pointed at Alex again.

“This… person?” he scoffed. “A thief and a pauper?”

“He’s worth eight hundred billion?”

He chuckled.

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

SLAP!

Another loud slap.

His other cheek snapped to the side.

Gasps filled the store.

The manager staggered slightly.

Before he could react—

SLAP!

A third slap. Harder.

The crowd was completely stunned.

No one spoke. No one moved.

The manager stood there, both cheeks red, completely frozen.

Isabella lowered her hand slowly.

Her eyes were cold. “Get out.”

The manager blinked. “W-what?”

“You’re fired,” she said calmly. “You’re no longer the manager of this boutique.”

The crowd gasped.

The manager’s face turned pale. “Miss, you can’t be serious—”

“I am,” she cut him off. “You embarrassed a guest in my store.”

She stepped forward slightly. “And not just any guest.” Her voice sharpened. “A man who has more money than this entire boutique… including me.”

The crowd froze again.

“What?”

“That’s impossible?”

“Is she serious?”

The manager’s mouth opened slightly.

His brain refused to process it.

“This… this is impossible…” he muttered.

Isabella ignored him and turned to the police officers.

“There is no thief here,” she said calmly.

The officers nodded in understanding and stepped back.

The crowd stood there.

Frozen.

Shocked.

The same people who had mocked Alex earlier—

Now stared at him like they were looking at something unreal.

“A beggar…?”

“Eight hundred billion…?”

No one laughed anymore, no one mocked.

They simply stared at Alex in shock and disbelief.

Isabella didn’t even look at them.

Her attention was fully on Alex.

Her expression softened slightly, then she stepped forward.

“Sir…” she said calmly. “I’m sorry.”

The crowd stiffened.

Apologizing? To him?

Isabella continued, her voice sincere.

“What happened here should never have happened.” She glanced briefly at the torn shirt on the floor before looking back at him. “You were treated like a criminal in my store.”

Alex looked at her calmly. His expression didn’t change.

She gave a faint, self-aware smile. “I actually saw you earlier,” she added.

That caught the attention of the crowd again.

“At the bank,” she continued. “You shut everyone up without even raising your voice.”

She let out a soft breath. “I was impressed.”

Her lips curved slightly. “Very impressed.”

Alex tilted his head slightly. “Impressed?” he repeated calmly.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Most people with power like yours would have made a scene.”

She paused. “But you didn’t. You stayed calm. Indifferent. Like none of it mattered.”

Alex gave a faint wry smile.

She took another step closer. “And now… fate brings you here.”

Her tone carried a hint of amusement. “From the bank… to my boutique.”

She glanced at the staff and the crowd briefly. “Unfortunately, my store decided to embarrass itself in front of you.”

A few staff members lowered their heads immediately.

One of them whispered under his breath, “We’re finished…”

She looked back at Alex. “Allow me to fix that.”

Alex raised a brow slightly.

“How?” he asked calmly.

Her smile deepened slightly. “By treating you properly.”