Useless Husband is now a Muti-Billionaire

Chapter Two The Boss and The Bank Manager

Fifty minutes.

Abel watched the dashboard clock tick over as he pulled into the EasyWay Logistics lot. He left the Corolla crooked across two spaces and took the stairs two at a time.

Anderson Morning, his boss, rarely left his office during working hours. He tracked his riders on the company app and let the packages do the walking. So when Abel knocked in the middle of a shift, Anderson looked up in surprise.

“Mr. Kane? Come in. Sit.”

“Thank you, sir.” Abel gave a small bow and took the chair across the desk.

“Is something wrong with the bike?”

“No, sir.” Abel cleared his throat. In four years, he had never asked this man for a day off or an advance. But pride was cheap, and his mother’s life wasn’t. 

“Sir, I need a favor.”

“A favor?”

“It’s my mother.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. 

“She needs emergency surgery. The deposit has to be paid before they can begin.”

“How much?”

“Two hundred thousand. But anything you can spare, sir. I’ll find the rest.”

Anderson leaned back and let out a short, humorless laugh. 

“Abel, I don’t give personal loans to employees. Not for emergencies, not for anyone. Two hundred thousand is a lot of money, and I won’t make an exception.”

“Sir, please. Anything you can do…”

“I’m sorry.” Anderson turned back to his screen. 

“Try the bank.” He said.

The conversation was over. Abel rose, bowed out of habit, and left.

***

Sky Bank’s glass doors slid open, and the security guard straightened as if a general had walked in.

Before Abel reached the counter, the manager came out of his office almost at a jog.

“Mr. Kane! You should have called ahead, sir. Please, come in.” He ushered Abel to a leather chair and lowered his voice. 

“Are the briefcases in the car? I’ll send someone down for them.”

“Not today.” Abel sat forward. 

“I need a loan.”

The manager’s smile held, though his eyebrows lifted. 

“Of course. How much would you like?”

“Two hundred thousand.”

“Two hundred thousand?” The manager blinked. 

“Sir, you bring in more than that every week. For you, we would happily lend ten million. How does that sound?”

“No. Just two hundred thousand.” Abel sounded. 

The manager studied him a moment longer, then slid a slip of paper across the desk. 

“If that’s all you need sir. We will happily loan you.” He smiled.

“Your account number, please, just for the formality.”

Abel wrote it down. The manager typed it in, and his smile slowly thinned.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand. The largest deposit ever made into this account is five hundred dollars?”

“That’s because the deposits I bring in every week don’t go into my account.” Abel kept his voice even. 

“The money in those briefcases is my wife’s. Adora Clement. I only carry it.”

“I see.” The manager cleared his throat. 

“In that case, this changes things.” He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the desk

“With the Clements as your in-laws, we would need to call them directly to confirm the loan. Otherwise, we would need collateral.” His tone was firm. His respectful tone vanished, remaining only professional. 

“I have a 1991 Toyota Corolla.”

The manager didn’t even pretend to consider it. “I’m afraid not. Shall we call your wife?”

“No.” Abel stood.

“Thank you for your time.”

He walked out through the same glass doors, past the guard who had straightened for him moments ago and he didn’t accord him any respect the way he always did. 

But he didn’t mind. His mother’s life was the only thing paramount to him right now. 

His wife had refused him. His boss had refused him. Now the bank had refused him too.

Twenty minutes.

Abel sat in the Corolla with both hands on the wheel. Somewhere across the city, his mother was dying and there seemed to be nothing he could do about it.

There was one thing he could do again, one person he could reach out to again. But she had already refused him twice.

He hated the idea of begging again.

But he hated the thought of losing his mother more.

He stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over her contact.

He had already begged her twice. First over the phone, then in person. Both times, she had made him feel worthless.

The thought of calling her again made his stomach twist. He could already imagine her mocking him, reminding him that he was just a nobody but a personal slave to her. 

But then he pictured his mother lying beneath those white sheets, her chest rising and falling as the machines beside her beeped.

He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

He swallowed his pride and pressed the call button.

This time, he wasn’t calling as her husband.

He was calling as a son who had run out of options.