The Night My Wife Left, I Made $500 Trillion From Crypto

The high school reunion

The red 2011 Ford Ranger pickup truck rattled and groaned as Ethan drove into the wide, circular driveway of the Paradise Hotel. Known as the most luxurious hotel in the city, it welcomed famous celebrities and billionaires who often stayed for weeks.

Using this venue for the reunion must have been incredibly expensive. This made Ethan wonder who was sponsoring everything.

Lois pressed her face against the passenger window, her eyes widening in awe.

"Just look at all those luxurious cars!" she exclaimed as she pointed at a row of gleaming vehicles that lined the entrance like a showroom. "Oh my God, Ethan, is that really a Ferrari? Look, there's a Rolls-Royce over there! I've only ever seen those in magazines!"

Ethan tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He wasn't as thrilled as his wife was. All those fancy cars everywhere only made him feel worse about himself.

Without a doubt, he had the poorest car compared to the others. Who on earth still drives a 2011 Ford Ranger these days? His truck was literally a relic.

As they arrived at the entrance, a valet dressed in a sharp red uniform came forward. The young man's eyes swept over the beaten-up pickup, and his professional smile slipped, exposing a sneer.

He looked at Ethan like he didn't belong there, like the truck itself was an insult to the spotless pavement it sat on.

Ethan ignored the judgmental stare and handed the car keys to the valet. "Take care of her, will you?" he said, forcing a casual tone.

The valet took the keys with two fingers, as if they were filthy. "Sure, pal," he said, rolling his eyes.

Ethan exhaled slowly, then turned to his wife. "Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm.

Lois frowned, adjusting the strap of her handbag. "Just try not to embarrass me while we're inside," she said, her voice icy.

She didn't take his arm. Instead, she smoothed down her dress and marched ahead without him. Ethan followed behind, his crutches tapping out on the polished stone floor.

They entered the hotel together, but not as a couple. Ethan couldn't help but feel like his wife was slipping away.

A hostess dressed in a sleek black gown guided them from the lobby into the lavish banquet hall. As the doors swung open, Ethan was greeted by a rush of warmth, laughter, and the sound of champagne glasses clinking.

Across the lavishly furnished hall, their former classmates were gathered in small groups, chatting and sharing their success stories.

Men dressed in expensive tailored suits gestured confidently as they spoke, their laughter echoing throughout the room. Women in designer dresses sparkled under the chandeliers, their jewelry gleaming like scattered stars.

Even a few of their former teachers attended the event, looking proud and dignified as they shared memories with former students.

It was a grand affair, the kind of celebration reserved for people who had truly succeeded.

Ethan hesitated at the entrance, gripping his crutches so tightly his knuckles turned white. He didn't belong here. Everyone looked so accomplished, so polished, and so undeniably successful.

He, on the other hand, wore his cheap suit—the same one he had bought three years ago for a job interview that never worked out. The suit only highlighted his financial struggles.

He wanted to turn and leave. Every instinct screamed at him to limp back to his beat-up truck and drive back home. But that was out of the question. He had to go through with this. For Lois sake.

He tried grabbing his wife's hand, hoping to feel some comfort from her touch. But Lois was already hurrying excitedly into the hall, her face glowing with joy as she caught sight of her old friends.

"Amanda! Brittany! Oh my God, look at you!" she squealed, throwing her arms around a group of elegantly dressed women.

They hugged and squealed in return as they welcomed Lois into their circle, catching up on old times.

Ethan watched them for a moment, feeling utterly alone. He drew a deep breath, gathered his courage, and stepped into the hall, his crutches tapping against the floor like a steady drumbeat.

At first, nobody paid him any attention. He was just another face in the crowd, easily ignored. Then, one or two people recognized him, their eyes widening in surprise.

"Hey, isn't that Ethan?" a man called out. "Ethan 'The Rocket Arm'!"

"No way, it’s really him!" another confirmed.

A small crowd started to form around Ethan, their expressions filled with curiosity and nostalgia.

He managed to force a smile as he politely returned their greetings. "Hey guys, great to see you. Yeah, it's me. Long time, no see."

Before Ethan knew what was happening, everyone was eagerly talking to him. He was pretty popular in high school, so it was only natural that he received this kind of attention.

Yet, every conversation left him feeling even smaller. The small talk felt like tiptoeing through a minefield of brags and achievements.

One classmate was now a CEO of a tech startup. Another was a successful surgeon. A third had produced two blockbuster movies in Hollywood.

There was also a real estate mogul, a partner at a prestigious law firm, and a former classmate who became an actress in a popular TV show series.

Then someone asked, "Hey, Ethan, what happened to you? Are you still playing football these days? Why are you using crutches?"

The smile on Ethan's face vanished. "No," he said quietly. "I've quit playing football for years now."

They all looked surprised.

"Didn't you sign a professional contract?" the first man asked. "I thought for sure the NFL would come calling."

Ethan shrugged, his shoulders heavy with disappointment. "My ACL injury ruined my chances of pursuing my football career. I had to terminate my contract because I was no longer fit to play."

"Oh..." The word hung in the air, followed by an awkward silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity.

Another classmate, a woman with sharp eyes asked, "So what do you do these days for work?"

"I'm a crypto trader," Ethan replied, hoping the answer might spark some interest.

An unusual silence fell around Ethan.

Suddenly, someone snorted without warning. Then a laugh erupted, quickly followed by another.

Within seconds, the entire circle exploded into laughter at Ethan.

"Wait, seriously? You're a crypto trader?" someone exclaimed, laughing.

"Is that what you've been doing all these years?" another asked.

A woman covered her mouth as she laughed and said, "So basically, you're unemployed."

"Wasn't there a crypto crash a few years back? Is crypto even still relevant today?"

"So all those football dreams just ended with you staring at charts in your basement? That's so pathetic!"

"Hey, remember when we all thought Ethan would be the first millionaire?" someone sneered. "Looks like we were wrong."

The hall echoed with even more laughter.

Filled with humiliation, Ethan forced a smile as he gripped his crutches and quietly pushed his way through the crowd. Each burst of laughter felt like a knife twisting deep in his chest.

What had happened to him?

Once upon a time, these people loved and respected him. But now, they all laughed at him for being a crypto trader.

He knew coming here was a mistake. Maybe he should just find Lois and then go home.

As Ethan scanned the banquet hall, he quickly spotted his wife. But the moment he did, his heart froze in shock.

Lois wasn't standing with her friends anymore. She was leaning against a tall man dressed in a pristine white suit.

The man was Damian Rhodes, Ethan's best friend.