A few days later, In the middle of a stressful morning at work, Oliver decided he needed a break. His mind had been racing with problems and new developments from the news from luminary Industries, and unwinding with some food seemed like a good way to clear his headHe drove to a nearby restaurant, the streets quiet compared to the chaos inside his mind. Just as he was nearing the restaurant, his phone chimed.He glanced at the screen, a message. It was from the orphanage, a gentle reminder about the upcoming fundraiser. A flicker of warmth spread through him as he recalled his recent visit.After enjoying a meal at the restaurant, the urge to make sure everything was in place for the orphanage event nagged at him. He decided to stop by the bank to withdraw some cash, not just for the fundraiser but for his own expenses as well. His focus shifted to the task at hand, and he drove straight to "Imperial Trust Bank", a high-end international financial institution renowned for its exclu
As Oliver's words lingered in the air, murmurs spread among the queue of onlookers. Intrigued by his claim of being an SVIP, they began making snide remarks under their breath."SVIP? Ha, in those clothes?" a man in a tailored grey suit scoffed, adjusting his expensive watch. "He looks like he can’t even afford lunch, let alone hold a VIP status.""Is he out of his mind?" a woman in a sleek red dress muttered, rolling her eyes. "This isn't some backstreet store where you can play pretend.""Honestly, the nerve of some people," another person added, clearly irritated. "We’ve all been waiting in line, and now this guy wants special treatment?"The employee, emboldened by the growing discontent from the crowd, let out a derisive laugh. Her mocking tone cut through the noise. "Sir, I suggest you leave now before we’re forced to take more serious measures against you." Her eyes gleamed with the thrill of asserting authority, and her words carried a veiled threat.As if on cue, two fierce-
Oliver replied, his voice edged with a mix of anger and frustration. "This isn't about pretense or trying to impress anyone. It's about class—and class is earned based on contribution to society, something I don’t expect you to know anything about." He shot the man a sharp look, his patience wearing thin.As Oliver’s words hung in the air, the crowd’s reactions immediately followed, sparking a flurry of murmurs and amused comments."Contribution to society? What’s he even talking about?""Look at him, acting like some big shot. What’s he done for anyone?""Bet his ‘contributions’ are as fake as that card!"A middle-aged man near the back chuckled sarcastically, "Oh please, this guy? Contributing? More like he’s contributing to wasting our time."Another voice piped up, "Probably donated his old clothes to a thrift store and thinks he’s saving the world."The well-dressed woman from earlier sneered, "This is just embarrassing. What kind of contribution could he possibly be talking abo
As the tension in the bank reached its boiling point, the crowd's skepticism toward Oliver was palpable. Mocking comments, sneers, and the occasional jeer could be heard as people prepared to witness what they believed would be Oliver’s inevitable humiliation. Fueled by the man's relentless taunts, the crowd was growing increasingly rowdy, with onlookers closing in to watch the drama unfold.Just as the noise escalated into a near ruckus, a calm yet authoritative voice cut through the chaos, silencing the clamor. Heads turned as the source of the voice emerged from the crowd. A middle-aged man in a sharp suit, carrying an air of authority, walked briskly toward the commotion. His brow furrowed with surprise and disapproval as he took in the chaotic scene around him.It was the bank manager.Immediately, the employee who had been leading the charge against Oliver, along with the two security guards, straightened up, their faces lighting up with a mixture of relief and anticipation.
As Oliver and the manager left the commotion behind and headed into the office, the whispers from the crowd echoed through the bank."Did you see that? Oliver's being taken to the manager's office like he's some kind of VIP!" One person said."And that guy? Storming off like a spoiled child who didn’t get his way." Another person commented. "He was so full of himself, but now he’s running off like a baby who lost his toy." A third added.The air was filled with a mixture of amusement and awe, with people clearly seeing Oliver in a whole new light.Inside the manager’s office, the atmosphere was much calmer. There was a special ATM machine reserved for high-profile clients. The manager, now all business and respect, assisted Oliver with the transaction. Afterward, he thanked Oliver with the utmost courtesy, bowing slightly, and said, “Thank you for your continued trust in our services, sir. Please don’t hesitate to contact us if you ever need anything else.”Oliver nodded and smiled,
The manager tried again, his voice trembling as he attempted to reason with Oliver, "You don’t understand… if the director comes and you’re still here, it won’t be good. Just… do as he says. Please, for your own sake."Oliver’s eyes narrowed in anger. "I’m not scared of him or his so-called director," he replied, standing his ground. "This has gone on long enough."Just as Oliver turned to leave, the man blocked his path, stepping directly in front of him. "Going somewhere?" he sneered, turning to the manager. "If you let him walk out of here, when the police arrive, I’ll make sure you’re arrested too—for aiding and abetting a criminal!" His voice was triumphant, as though he’d just cornered a wild animal. The manager froze, his fear now at an all-time high. "No… no, please…" he whispered. His eyes darted back and forth, filled with panic, looking at Oliver as though pleading for him to stay. "I… I can’t let him leave. We’ll both be in trouble."The manager, visibly trembling, turne
The crowd murmured louder now, their gazes darting between Oliver and the man as the tension in the air mounted.As the chatter in the crowd began to die down, the man raised his voice once again, ensuring all eyes were on him. "The last name on this ID card," he said, waving it in the air, "doesn't match the one he claims. So, clearly, he's a fraud!" Oliver’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced as he suddenly realized the mistake he'd made that morning. A knot formed in his stomach as he grasped the gravity of the situation. He had grabbed the wrong ID, his old one, from his time at the orphanage. It conflicted with the name his mother had given him when she found him months ago. Though the issue had long since been corrected, no one in the crowd would give him a chance to explain.The air felt thick with judgment as the crowd began whispering again."He’s a fraud? After all that show of power?" one person muttered in disbelief."Unbelievable. So everything he’s been doing here—a
Oliver took a moment to steady himself, feeling the sting of the crowd's increasingly vicious jeers. Their judgment was relentless, and the weight of their scorn began pressing down on him. He knew that staying would only worsen the situation, so he decided to leave. Just as he turned to make his exit, something caught his eye through the large windows of the bank. Outside, two tinted Land Cruiser jeeps pulled up—vehicles that exuded wealth and power. As the crowd inside the bank noticed the scene unfolding, their attention shifted slightly. A guard in a sharp suit stepped out of the first car and opened the back door. From within emerged an elderly man, though not too elderly, perhaps in his late 60s. He wore an impeccably tailored suit that hugged his frame with the elegance of someone used to commanding respect. His hair was neatly combed back, and his posture was upright, radiating an aura of authority and control. He had a polished air about him—his wristwatch gleamed gold, a