Chapter four

Marco tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep a wink. His mind was racing with thoughts of the conversation he had had with his father the last night. Could it be true? Was he a millionaire? Marco knew he wouldn't be able to rest until he had answers, so he decided to get up early and go to the bank.

As he made his way to the bank, Marco's nerves were on edge. He wasn't sure what to expect, and he was half-afraid that this was all some kind of elaborate joke. But as he entered the bank, he was determined to find out the truth.

To Marco's disappointment, the staff at the bank seemed to ignore him as he entered the bank. He stood there for a few minutes, feeling invisible and helpless before he mustered up the courage to speak.

As he approached the counter, Marco could feel the eyes of the staff upon him. He knew that he wasn't dressed like a typical millionaire, his clothes were shabby and worn, a far cry from the designer suits and designer shoes that many wealthy people wore. But Marco didn't care. He just wanted to know the truth.

"Excuse me," Marco said tentatively, approaching one of the tellers. "Could you please check how much money is in my account?"

The teller looked at him with a bored expression, as if this was a request she heard a hundred times a day. But she obliged, typing away on her computer and consulting with a colleague before turning back to Marco with a professional smile before turning to talk to her colleague again.

"I am waiting," he said to the teller.

The teller gave him an impatient look annoyed at having to deal with what she thought was just another poor guy looking to make ends meet. But when she checked Marco's account, her eyes widened in shock and she stammered as she spoke.

"What's wrong?" Marco asked her when she didn't say anything.

"A-according to our records, sir," the teller stuttered, "you have a balance of one hundred million dollars."

Marco's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His father had been telling the truth - he was a millionaire.

The teller, realizing her mistake, stood up and was suddenly very respectful to Marco. She apologized for her earlier behavior and assured him that she was at his service for anything he needed.

Marco was overwhelmed by the sudden shift in treatment. He had gone from being ignored and dismissed to being treated with the utmost respect and deference. It was a strange feeling and one that Marco wasn't sure he was ready for.

It took a minute for her words to sink in.

Marco stared at the teller in shock, unable to believe what he was hearing. "One hundred million dollars?" he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief.

The teller nodded, a look of embarrassment on her face. "Yes, sir," she said. "According to our records, that is your current balance."

Marco's mind was racing. He had always known the truth when he spoke to his father but he needed to confirm it for himself, but he had never expected to be a millionaire on his own. The thought was both thrilling and overwhelming.

"I-I don't know what to say," Marco stuttered.

"Well, sir," the teller said, a note of deference in her voice. "As the client with the largest balance in our bank, you are our most important customer. I'm going to have to ask our manager to come and serve you personally."

Marco nodded, still in a state of shock. He watched as the teller hurried away, disappearing through a door marked 'Private'. A few minutes later, she returned with a middle-aged man in a suit.

"Mr. Marco, I'm the manager of this branch," the man said, extending his hand. "I'm here to assist you with anything you need."

Marco shook the man's hand, still feeling dazed. "Thank you," he managed to say. "I'm not sure what I need right now. I just found out about my balance."

"Well, sir," the manager said, a warm smile on his face. "We have a wide range of services available to our high net worth clients. Investments, financial planning, private banking, you name it, we've got it. And as our most important client, you'll have access to all of it."

Marco listened, trying to take it all in. He knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and he was determined to make the most of it. He was ready to embrace his new life as a millionaire and to prove to his father and the world that he was worthy of the family's legacy.

Marco was discussing his financial options with the manager when he heard a voice that made his blood run cold.

"Well, well, if it isn't Marco," the voice sneered. "I see you've finally hit the jackpot."

Marco turned to see Dahlia, walking towards him with a tall, strong man by her side. She was dressed in a dress her hair and makeup perfectly styled, a smug smile on her face.

"Hello, Dahlia," Marco said, trying to keep his voice steady. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business." Dahlia said, a hint of mockery in her voice. "what are you doing here? Do you have any other money you haven't given me yet?"

They burst into laughter.

Marco's face burned with embarrassment and anger. He couldn't believe that Dahlia and this man were mocking him like this, in front of the bank manager no less. He knew that he couldn't let them see how much they had gotten to him, so he forced a smile and tried to play it off.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met," Marco said, extending his hand to the man. "I'm Marco."

The man ignored Marco's hand, sneering down at him. "I know who you are," he said. "You're the poor little boy who's in over his head."

Marco's face fell as the man's words hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew that he had a lot to learn about managing his wealth and being responsible for it, but he hoped that people would see him as more than just a naive kid with a lot of money. He had hoped to be respected, not mocked and belittled.

"I don't know what Dahlia told you about me but you got it all wrong," Marco said with a shrug.

The tall, strong man chuckled, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Marco. "Is this the guy who used to wash dirty clothes for the basketball team to make a living?" he asked, a sneer in his voice.