Rise to Power: The Miraculous Liam Regan.

Chapter 13

The attendant didn’t stop there. If anything, the old woman’s trembling only seemed to encourage her cruelty.

She let out a sharp, mocking laugh and tossed the document onto the counter.

“This is exactly how people like you behave,” she said loudly, making sure everyone in the E‑class section could hear.

“Dirty, wretched women like you come into the bank pretending you have money when you clearly don’t. Then you start looking for sympathy where you’re never going to get it.”

Her lip curled in open disgust.

“This is a typical example of poor, stinking, low‑class citizens,” she continued.

“Always confused. Always troublesome. As if basic behavior is something completely new to you people.”

The hall went still. No one spoke. No one dared to.

The woman crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat, her face hard with contempt.

“Well, as it stands now, I’m not attending to you anymore. Go home. Come back tomorrow. Maybe then I’ll decide whether I want to deal with you or not.”

She clicked her tongue in irritation. “You’re getting on my nerves, and I’m already beginning to get really, really annoyed. People like you have no idea what it costs to keep this place suitable for your kind—even though, frankly, you don’t deserve it.”

Hearing those words, the old woman visibly broke. Her lips quivered, and her body shook so badly it seemed she might collapse again at any moment. She took a hesitant step forward, desperation outweighing her fear.

At once, the attendant thrust a hand toward her.

“Stop! Stop right there!” she snapped.

“Don’t come any closer to me. I’m already complaining that you stink, and now you want to move nearer?”

Her voice rose another notch. “Do you want me to call security? Should I have them drag you out of here and throw you into the street?”

Immediately the old woman froze, her face pale with humiliation. Then, with trembling hands clasped tightly together, she began to plead.

“I’m very, very sorry,” she said, her voice shaking so badly the words almost fell apart. “I’m sorry. You shouted at me, and that was why I became confused. I’m very, very sorry. I can do it, I’m willing to do it. Please…”

Tears streamed down her face as she bowed her head repeatedly.

“I cannot afford to come back tomorrow,” she whispered, then louder, more broken, “I cannot. The situation is between life and death. I truly cannot come back tomorrow.”

She swallowed hard, trying to hold herself together, but the pain in her voice was unbearable.

“I’m sorry if I disrespected you. I’m sorry if I made a mess of everything. I’m very, very sorry. Please, don’t chase me away. Please don’t make me come back tomorrow. I’m sorry… It is a life‑and‑death situation. I’m very, very sorry.”

Hearing what she was saying the attendant’s face hardened even further.

“Sorry?” she scoffed. “Sorry not accepted. Like I said before, you’ve already annoyed me. I will not attend to you today. You can go home and come back tomorrow. That is the only way I will deal with you.”

Her tone was final, merciless.

“Next!” she shouted sharply.

It was Liam’s turn., but he didn’t move.

He stood there, staring at the old woman whose shoulders were shaking under the weight of humiliation. Something inside him twisted painfully. He had seen injustice before. He had endured it his entire life. Yet this felt different.

The words echoed in his head, over and over.

**She’s not lying.**

**She’s not lying.**

**She’s not lying.**

He didn’t know why he felt so certain. Yes, he knew the world was harsh. He knew that sometimes desperate people exaggerated their pain to survive another day. Even E‑level citizens could deceive one another when survival demanded it.

But this woman… Her fear wasn’t staged. Her trembling wasn’t manipulation. The grief in her voice carried the raw edge of truth. And something deep within him something instinctive kept insisting that her situation was real.

He couldn’t shake it off.

It was like a persistent ringing inside his skull, louder than the noise in the bank. It pressed against his conscience, against his chest, against the fragile determination he had built just moments ago.

He didn’t know what he was going to do.

He didn’t know how he was going to help.

But the urge to step in, to stop this humiliation, to do something anything was rising inside him like a fever. It felt almost physical, like an itch beneath his skin or a craving he couldn’t suppress. Helping her suddenly felt necessary, as though refusing would poison him from the inside.

Yet reality stood firm before him. He needed his money. He needed every dollar in that account to fight for his land. He couldn’t afford distractions. He couldn’t afford compassion.

And still—“She’s not lying.”

He remained frozen in place.

At that moment the attendant’s patience snapped.

“I said next!” she barked again. “Or do you want me to throw both of you out?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Do you want me to refuse to attend to you as well? Because I can certainly arrange that.”