Rise Of The Student Pauper

CHAPTER 8

Ava stood with her arms folded, smirking like she had just won a war.

“I told you,” she said, tossing her hair proudly. “He’s just a scammer pretending to be rich. Look at him! Does he look like someone who owns even ten thousand?”

The manager, Mr. Donovan, nodded sharply. “The evidence is clear enough. He’s carrying a stolen card. Arrest him and take him out of here before he causes more trouble.”

Darren’s chest tightened. He looked from one angry face to another, feeling his stomach twist painfully. “Please,” he said in a calm but shaky voice. “You’re making a mistake. I didn’t steal this card. I can prove it’s mine.”

One of the officers frowned. “And how will you prove that?”

“Let me use the card,” Darren said. “If I’m lying, the machine won’t let me access anything. I know the PIN. I can prove I’m the owner.”

The manager rolled his eyes. “Oh, this will be good,” he said sarcastically. “Fine then, let’s see your big act. Go ahead and embarrass yourself further.”

The officer holding Darren’s arm hesitated, then loosened his grip slightly. “Alright,” he said. “We’ll let him try. If he fails, we’re taking him in.”

Ava smirked. “He’ll fail. They always do.”

Darren’s heart pounded in his chest, but he nodded. “Fine. Just give me one chance.”

The officer gestured toward the secured section of the floor — a small, private room with glass walls and a single ATM-like machine inside. It was where elite clients made private transactions. “We’ll do it there,” he said firmly. “You’ve got one try.”

The manager and Ava followed eagerly, their eyes gleaming with excitement, ready to see him humiliated again. Darren walked ahead quietly, holding the black card tightly.

“Go ahead,” Ava said mockingly. “Let’s see how far your lies can go.”

Darren ignored her and slid the card into the slot. The screen lit up immediately with a faint beep.

PLEASE ENTER PIN.

He exhaled, trying to calm himself. The officers stood behind him. The manager stood with his hands crossed, tapping his foot impatiently. Ava leaned slightly against the glass wall, whispering to herself, “This will be funny.”

Darren began typing the numbers carefully, 7… 6… and just as he reached the last two digits, one of the officers muttered something behind him.

“Don’t waste our time.”

Distracted, Darren pressed the two final numbers too quickly — 3,1  instead of 1,3.

The machine blinked red instantly.

INVALID PIN.

A loud beep filled the room, followed by a flashing red light above the screen.

Ava burst out laughing. “I knew it!” she said loudly. “He can’t even guess a PIN right. What a joke!”

The manager stepped forward, shaking his head. “That’s enough proof. Arrest him.”

“Wait—please!” Darren turned quickly. “That was a mistake. Just one more try. I pressed the wrong digit.”

The officer hesitated, but the manager raised his hand. “No second tries for thieves,” he snapped. “Do you think this is a game? He tried to break into a billionaire’s account.”

“I didn’t!” Darren’s voice cracked slightly. “Just one more try, please. You’ll see.”

Ava scoffed. “Oh, enough! You’ve wasted enough of our time. Officer, take him.”

Before Darren could say another word, the officer grabbed his wrist roughly and twisted it behind his back. The cold metal of the handcuffs touched his skin.

“You’re under arrest for attempted fraud,” the officer said flatly.

People from the nearby offices had started gathering by the glass wall.

Darren struggled slightly. “Let me go! I can prove it, please just let me try again!”

The officer ignored him. The manager smiled thinly. “You should have walked away when you had the chance.”

Ava smirked proudly. “Told you, sir. I could smell trouble from the start.”

The officer started dragging Darren toward the door. His mind was spinning, his heart racing. He couldn’t believe this was happening  again. The humiliation, the disbelief, the way everyone looked at him like trash — it all came rushing back.

But then something inside him snapped.

He pulled hard, freeing his arm from the officer’s grip, and turned sharply toward the machine. “If I’m lying,” he shouted, “the card won’t work! Just let me try again!”

Before anyone could stop him, he rushed back to the machine, slid the card in again, and quickly typed 7-6-1-3.

The room froze.

For a second, nothing happened. Then the machine beeped softly…  once, twice, and then the entire screen turned green.

ACCESS GRANTED.

Everyone stared in shock. Ava’s jaw dropped. The manager’s eyes widened. Even the officer took a step back.

On the screen, new words appeared:

PLEASE PLACE YOUR FINGER FOR IDENTITY VERIFICATION.

Darren turned around slowly, breathing heavily. “You see? I told you it was mine.”

The manager frowned, still in disbelief. “That doesn’t mean anything. You probably stole the card and the PIN from someone else.”

He stepped forward and grabbed Darren’s wrist before he could move. “You think you’re clever, huh? But look at your hands! Rough, dry, full of scars. You think any millionaire would have hands like that?”

Ava folded her arms. “Exactly. He probably works construction or delivery. No rich man’s ever done a day of hard work.”

The officer hesitated, glancing between them. “Still,” he said quietly, “he did enter the right PIN.”

The manager ignored him. “He’s bluffing. Don’t let him fool you.”

Darren took a deep breath and pulled his hand free. “Then let’s end the argument,” he said firmly. “Let me do the fingerprint test.”

He placed his thumb gently on the glass pad.

The machine scanned for a few seconds. Then a soft chime echoed through the room, followed by a blue flash across the screen.

IDENTITY VERIFIED.

Everyone froze.

The words on the screen grew clearer.

WELCOME BACK, JEREMIAH DARREN HILTON.

CHECKING ACCOUNT BALANCE…

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the machine. Darren stared at the screen, his chest rising and falling. A small smile crept across his face. He remembered his grandfather showing him the app last night — how he had updated Darren’s name officially to include his birth name Darren.

The numbers began to appear on the screen.

$100,000… $500,000… $1,000,000… $10,000,000… $50,000,000

The figures climbed higher and higher, faster than anyone could count.

$500,000,000…. $1,000,000,000…. $10,000,000,000… $100,000,000,000

Ava’s lips parted, her face turning pale. The manager’s mouth hung open. The officer took a step back, his hand slowly dropping from his belt.

The numbers didn’t stop.

$300,000,000,000… $500,000,000,000… $700,000,000,000

Then the screen froze.

AVAILABLE BALANCE: $700,000,000,000.00

The silence that followed was deafening.

No one moved. No one breathed.

Darren turned around slowly, his expression calm, almost cold. He looked at Ava first, who was still staring at the screen like it was a ghost. Then he looked at the manager, whose face was now drenched in sweat.

“Can I withdraw my money now?” Darren asked quietly. His tone was polite, but the weight of it made everyone in the room flinch.

The officer quickly stepped back. “I—I’m sorry, sir,” he stammered. “We didn’t know—”

Ava’s lips trembled. “S-sir, I didn’t mean—”

Darren held up a hand to stop her. 

The manager swallowed hard and wiped his forehead. His voice shook when he spoke. “M-Mr. Hilton, sir, I deeply apologize. We made a terrible mistake. Please, forgive us. I’ll make sure everyone involved is disciplined.”

Ava quickly added, her voice cracking, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to insult you. I thought you were—”

“A cleaner?” Darren finished for her. “Yes, I know.”

She looked down, ashamed.

The manager bent slightly, almost bowing. “Please don’t report this incident to headquarters, sir. It would ruin our reputation.”