On the other end of the line, Marcus Henderson, the General Manager of the Royal Mall, was about to hang up. He had been in the middle of a high-stakes meeting with the board of directors when his secretary handed him a call from an "unknown billionaire" claiming he wanted to buy the mall.
"Listen, kid," Henderson sneered into the phone. "The Royal Mall is valued at over $1.2 billion. Even a five percent stake costs sixty million. Do you even have sixty dollars in your—"
"What's your corporate routing number?" Ethan interrupted, his voice as cold as ice.
"Excuse me?"
"The routing number, Henderson. I don't like repeating myself. I'm sending a ten-million-dollar deposit right now just to prove I'm not wasting my time. If it doesn't hit your account in thirty seconds, I'll buy the mall across the street and put you out of business by the end of the month."
Henderson paused. The sheer arrogance in the voice—it wasn't the voice of a prankster. It was the voice of someone who viewed money as nothing more than dirt.
"Fine," Henderson muttered, signaling his accountant to bring up the live wire-transfer monitor. He rattled off the numbers, a smirk playing on his lips. "The timer is starting, 'Mr. Billionaire.'"
At the mall entrance, the security guard, Richards, was already reaching for his handcuffs. "Alright, kid, enough with the roleplay. You're coming with me to the security office for disturbing the peace."
Ethan didn't move. He was looking at his phone.
[System Command: Wire Transfer $10,000,000 to Royal Mall Management Group.]
[Processing...]
[Transaction Successful. Current Balance: $89,999,900.00]
Back in the management office, a high-pitched ping echoed through the room. The head accountant's jaw dropped so low it nearly hit his mahogany desk.
"Sir... Mr. Henderson..." the accountant stuttered, his face turning pale. "We just received... ten million dollars. It's a verified wire. The sender's name is... Ethan Clarke."
Henderson's phone nearly slipped from his hand. His heart did a frantic somersault in his chest. Ten million? As a deposit for a conversation?
"Where is he?" Henderson screamed, knocking over his chair as he stood up. "Where is Mr. Clarke right now?!"
"He said... he's at the North Entrance, sir! He mentioned something about being blocked by security!"
Henderson didn't wait for another word. He sprinted toward the elevator like his life depended on it.
At the North Entrance, Richards had his hand on Ethan's shoulder. "Let's go, trash. Don't make me get rough with you."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Ethan said calmly.
"Oh? And why is that? Is your 'invisible' army coming to save you?" Richards laughed, looking at his fellow guard.
Suddenly, the heavy glass doors of the VIP elevator burst open. Marcus Henderson, the man whose face was on the "Employee of the Month" plaques in every hallway, came charging out. He was sweating, his tie was crooked, and he looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
"Richards! Get your filthy hands off him!" Henderson screamed, his voice cracking.
Richards froze. "Mr. Henderson? Sir, it's okay, I've got this handled. This beggar was trying to sneak in and—"
SLAP!
Henderson delivered a backhand so powerful that Richards stumbled back, clutching his reddened cheek in pure shock.
"Beggar? You idiot! You absolute moron!" Henderson was trembling. He turned to Ethan and immediately dropped into a ninety-degree bow. "Mr. Clarke! Please, forgive us! This man is fired! He's blacklisted from every security firm in the state! I am so incredibly sorry for this disrespect!"
The crowd of wealthy shoppers stopped in their tracks. They stared at the scene in disbelief. The General Manager of the Royal Mall, a man who usually only bowed to senators and oil tycoons, was bowing to a kid in a soaked, cheap suit?
Ethan looked down at Richards, who was now trembling on the floor, his face pale with realization.
"You said I looked like I belonged in a flea market," Ethan said softly.
"I... I didn't know... Please, sir! I have a family!" Richards pleaded, his arrogance replaced by pathetic desperation.
"Mr. Henderson," Ethan ignored the guard's pleas. "I want him escorted out. And I want the entire mall cleared of 'low-quality' staff by the end of the hour. Also, about that purchase..."
"Yes, Mr. Clarke! We can go to my office right now to discuss the acquisition!"
"No," Ethan said, walking past him into the marble-floored lobby. "I'll buy the mall later. Right now, I need to spend some money. I'm in a bad mood."
[Ding! Face-slapping successful.]
[Reward: +5 Charisma Points. $1,000,000 Cashback received.]
[Current Balance: $90,999,900.00]
Ethan walked straight toward the most expensive section of the mall: The Diamond Row.
He stopped in front of a store that looked more like a museum than a shop. Vacheron Constantin. The average watch here cost more than a Ferrari.
As Ethan entered, the scent of expensive leather and polished gold hit him. Two saleswomen in high-end silk dresses looked up. When they saw Ethan's wet clothes and disheveled hair, they shared a look of pure annoyance.
"Sir, the Casio store is in the basement," one of them said, not even bothering to stand up. "This is a high-end boutique. Our entry-level pieces start at fifty thousand dollars."
Ethan didn't say a word. He walked over to the center display case. Inside sat a masterpiece: The Tour de l'Île. It was a watch with 834 parts, two faces, and a price tag that made even millionaires hesitate.
"How much for this one?" Ethan asked.
The saleswoman sighed, walking over with an air of extreme boredom. "That is a limited edition. It's $1.5 million. Not that it matters, because you need a verified VVIP membership just to—"
"I'll take it," Ethan said, pulling out his black debit card.
"Sir, please stop playing games. If I swipe this and it declines, I'll have to call security."
"Swipe it," Ethan commanded. "And while you're at it, I'll take that one, that one, and the entire 'Patrimony' collection in the window."
The saleswoman's eyes narrowed. "Fine. Let's see your 'wealth' then."
She took the card with two fingers, as if it were contaminated, and slid it through the high-speed reader. She began typing in the total: $4,850,000.00.
She pressed Enter, ready to call the guards the moment the "Declined" message appeared.
Beep.
[Transaction Approved. Authorization Code: 009211.]
The machine spat out a receipt that was nearly a foot long.
The saleswoman's heart nearly stopped. She stared at the screen, then at the receipt, then at Ethan. Her knees buckled, and she had to grab the counter to keep from falling.
"F... Four million... eight hundred thousand..." she whispered.
"Is there a problem?" Ethan asked, his voice flat.
"No! No, sir! Not at all!" She was suddenly standing perfectly straight, her face flushing with a mix of terror and intense flirtation. "I am so sorry, Mr. Clarke! Let me get you some champagne! Please, sit in our private lounge! I will pack these for you personally!"
"Forget the lounge," Ethan said. He picked up the $1.5 million watch and strapped it onto his wrist. It felt heavy. It felt like power.
Just as he was about to leave, the store's glass doors swung open.
A familiar laugh echoed through the boutique.
"Sarah, I told you, this is where the real men shop," Bryan Crawford's voice boomed. "I'll get you that diamond-encrusted watch you wanted. A million dollars is nothing to a Crawford."
Sarah Miller was clinging to Bryan's arm, her eyes sparkling with greed as she looked at the displays. "Oh, Bryan! You're so much better than Ethan. He probably would have bought me a plastic watch from a vending machine."
They walked further into the store, and then they stopped.
There, standing in the center of the room, was Ethan. He was still wet from the rain, but on his wrist sat the Tour de l'Île, glowing under the boutique's spotlights. Behind him, three salesclerks were frantically packing luxury boxes into gold-leafed bags.
"Ethan?" Sarah gasped, her eyes widening. "What are you doing here? Did you follow us? Are you trying to get arrested for trespassing?"
Bryan burst out laughing. "Look at him! He's standing next to the $1.5 million display! Hey, salesgirl, you better check your pockets. This trash probably tried to snatch something."
The saleswoman who had just processed Ethan's four-million-dollar transaction stepped forward, her eyes flashing with cold fury.
"Sir," she said to Bryan, "I suggest you watch your tongue. Mr. Clarke is our most prestigious VVIP guest. He just purchased five million dollars worth of timepieces in a single transaction."
The store went silent.
The smile on Bryan's face froze. Sarah's jaw dropped so far it looked like it might unhinge.
"Five... million?" Sarah whispered, her brain refusing to process the words. "That's impossible. He's a delivery boy! He lives in a studio apartment!"
Ethan looked at them, his expression completely indifferent. He raised his wrist, checking the time on his new $1.5 million watch.
"You're right, Sarah," Ethan said, stepping closer to them. "I was a delivery boy. But today, I've decided to retire. And Bryan?"
Ethan looked at the watch Bryan was wearing—the $20,000 Rolex.
"That's a nice toy you've got there," Ethan sneered. "But it looks a bit cheap for this store. Maybe you should go to the basement. I hear the Casio section is having a sale."
Bryan's face turned a deep, angry shade of purple. "You... you must have stolen a card! Or it's a glitch! There's no way you have that kind of money!"
Bryan turned to the saleswoman. "I'm Bryan Crawford! My father owns ten percent of the shares in this mall! I want this man searched and thrown out immediately!"
The saleswoman didn't move. Instead, she looked past Bryan toward the entrance.
Marcus Henderson, the General Manager, had just arrived with a team of six burly security guards.
"Mr. Henderson!" Bryan shouted, pointing a finger at Ethan. "Thank god you're here! This thief is using a fraudulent card! Arrest him!"
Henderson looked at Bryan, then at Ethan. He didn't even hesitate.
"Mr. Crawford," Henderson said coldly. "I just received a call from the board of directors. A new investor has just made a massive play for the mall's equity. Effective immediately, your father's shares are being forcibly bought out at market value."
Bryan blinked. "What? That's illegal! You can't do that!"
"We can when the new majority shareholder demands it," Henderson said. He then turned to Ethan and bowed. "Mr. Clarke, the paperwork for the acquisition is being drafted. As of ten minutes ago, you are the primary owner of the Royal Mall."
Ethan looked at Sarah, who looked like she was about to faint. Then he looked at Bryan, whose entire world was crumbling.
"Oh, and Henderson?" Ethan added casually.
"Yes, Mr. Clarke?"
"Mr. Crawford and his girlfriend are making the air in my mall feel... cheap. Have security escort them out. And ban them. For life."