THE BEGGER BOY IS RICH HEIR

CHAPTER 7

Ethan’s eyes narrowed as he refused the bill.

“I’m not here for your charity. I came to make a withdrawal.”

The guard snorted, pulling back the ten dollars and pocketing it with exaggerated slowness.

“Right. Then maybe try the ATM outside, buddy.”

Ethan’s lips curled into a tight smile as he met the guard’s gaze head-on.

“And what if I told you I’m here to withdraw one million dollars?”

For a moment, the guard looked taken aback, then burst into laughter that drew the attention of a few onlookers. 

“One million?” he repeated, struggling to contain his amusement.

“You’re joking, right?”

Ethan’s expression remained calm, but there was fire in his eyes.

“Is there a reason why that’s so hard for you to believe?”

The guard snorted, his laughter bordering on scorn. 

“Because I saw you pull up on that rusty scooter outside,” he replied, his voice dripping with condescension. 

“One million dollars? That’s a good one. Do you think we’re all idiots here?”

Ethan’s face reddened, and he could feel his patience wearing thin.

 “I’m a client here, and I expect to be treated with respect. Are you suggesting that people who ride scooters can’t have money?”

“Look, boy,” the guard said, shaking his head, “we get people like you all the time. Coming in here with big stories and empty pockets. What are you gonna say next? That you’re some secret millionaire? You think you’re the first joker to walk in here with a fairytale?”

Ethan could feel a crowd gathering around them, whispers and amused glances flickering his way. 

The guard’s words cut deeper than he wanted to admit. 

Does he think I’m some kind of beggar? Some fraud looking for a handout?

The humiliation stung, but he held his ground.

“What gives you the right to treat me like this?” Ethan demanded, his voice low but laced with anger.

The guard shrugged, clearly unbothered.

“Right? Well, let’s see.” He looked him up and down with a smirk. 

“It’s just obvious. People like you walk in here all the time, looking for a quick score, pretending you’re someone you’re not. We’ve got to deal with you guys like clockwork. Bet you don’t even have fifty bucks in your account.”

Just then, the commotion caught the attention of the bank manager, a man with a stern face and sharp eyes who approached, looking less than pleased. 

“What’s going on here?” he asked, his voice cold.

The guard straightened, pointing at Ethan with a smirk.

 “This guy was causing a scene, sir. Claims he’s here to withdraw a million dollars,” he said, his voice dripping with disbelief.

 “More likely, he’s here to beg for money—or worse, try to take it. I’ve seen his type before.”

The manager’s frown deepened as he looked from Ethan to the guard, clearly displeased with the spectacle. 

“A beggar? Are you accusing this man of trying to steal?”

Ethan shot a furious glare at the guard. 

“I just came here to withdraw my one million dollars. But you guys judge won’t let me enter until a man show up in a suit and tie?” 

The manager, an experienced man who had seen many different types of clients, turned his gaze back to Ethan with a more discerning look. 

Could he be telling the truth? the manager wondered.

Some of the wealthiest clients he knew didn’t flaunt their riches in designer clothes and flashy cars. 

“Are you saying you want to withdraw… one million dollars?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes,” Ethan replied without hesitation, his voice unwavering.

The manager’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by the firmness in Ethan’s tone.

 “That’s a substantial… amount, sir,” he said carefully. 

“Withdrawals of that size require advance notice—it typically takes about three days to prepare such a transaction.”

Ethan’s face tightened in frustration, and he reached into his pocket, producing a sleek gold card that gleamed in his hand.

 He held it up for the manager to see, his expression hard. “And even with this card… I still need to wait three days?”

The manager’s eyes widened in shock, recognizing the exclusive gold card immediately. 

It was a card only issued to high-net-worth individuals, those with substantial financial assets and significant influence.

 The bank manager felt a shiver of realization wash over him; Ethan wasn’t just anybody.

 But the guard beside him, who clearly had no clue about the significance of the card, burst into laughter.

“Oh, come on!” the guard jeered. 

“What is that, some kind of toy? Never seen a card like that in my life. What did you do, order it online? Honestly, you’re really working hard to sell this little act. Next thing you’ll tell us, you’re secretly the CEO of some billion-dollar company.” He sneered, leaning closer. 

“Do yourself a favor and drop the act. We all know you’re just here to waste everyone’s time.”

The manager’s patience snapped.

Without hesitation, he raised his hand and delivered a sharp slap across the guard’s face, the sound echoing in the silent bank lobby.

The guard staggered back, clutching his cheek, his face a mixture of shock and pain. “S-sir?” he stammered, looking at the manager in disbelief.