Ethan paced nervously in the bookstore, his thoughts spiraling as the weight of his earlier conversation with David settled on him.
He had spoken with such confidence, claiming his professor was backing the project. But now, alone in the quiet of the store room, the enormity of that falsehood loomed over him like a storm cloud.
"Brilliant," he muttered under his breath, frustration spilling out. "All this supposed Intelligence and that's the best I could come up with?"
He stopped pacing, rubbing the back of his neck as regret gnawed at him.
In hindsight, there had to have been better ways to handle the situation. Ethan replayed the conversation in his mind, his brain stubbornly offering no solutions that didn't feel equally precarious.
The reality was clear. David would want proof. And when the time came, Ethan couldn't afford to be exposed as a liar. He needed to bridge the gap between his claim and the truth he hadn't yet constructed.
"I know…" Ethan stopped pacing, the hint of an idea surfacing. "What if I just… show him the money?"
It sounded absurd when said aloud, but it was also simple. Ethan had a billion dollars sitting in his account, an amount so vast he couldn't truly comprehend it. What could be more convincing than cold, hard cash?
The idea gained momentum in his mind. 'Cash... That's foolproof.' He dismissed other options—transferring the funds or writing a cheque—almost as quickly as they came.
To Ethan, transferring money without proper contracts or safeguards felt far too risky. What if David ran off with it? No amount of wealth, no matter how infinite, could dull the sting of being cheated.
The idea of David forcefully taking cash briefly crossed his mind, but he dismissed it with a wry smile. 'Not a chance,' he thought. After all, he was younger, quicker—probably. As if that was much of a reassurance.
And cheques? The thought hadn't even occurred to him. For all his intelligence, he remained painfully naive when it came to the practicalities of financial dealings.
"Yes. Cash," he said aloud, as though trying to reassure himself. "That's the best way."
But another problem arose. How would he withdraw such a large sum?
Walking into a bank and asking for hundreds of thousands of dollars wasn't just bold—it was absurd. Worse, he feared being laughed at, interrogated, or even accused of some criminal scheme.
Despite his growing doubts, Ethan knew he had no time to waste. David wouldn't wait forever, and he couldn't afford hesitation. A quick glance at the clock told him the bank was already open. He had to act.
Resolving himself to the task, Ethan turned toward the door. Still, his steps faltered as Mr. Parker, the bookstore manager, entered with a few colleagues. Ethan hesitated for only a moment before squaring his shoulders and approaching.
"Mr. Parker," he began, trying to sound calm, "could I have a word?"
Mr. Parker tilted his head, intrigued. "Of course. What's on your mind?"
"I'm resigning. Effective immediately," Ethan said plainly. Before the shock could settle in, he added, "I've transferred $1,000 as compensation for the short notice."
He held up his phone, the words Transaction Successful glowing on the screen.
For a moment, Mr. Parker simply stared. "You're… resigning? And you're paying me $1,000?"
Nearby coworkers, who had overheard the exchange, were equally stunned. Whispers spread quickly among them. Everyone knew that part-time pay at the bookstore rarely exceeded $750 a month. Yet Ethan had offered $1,000 without a second thought.
"What's wrong with this guy?" was the unspoken sentiment that flashed through more than one mind.
Ethan shifted awkwardly, his guilt creeping in. Resigning on the spot felt abrupt, almost disrespectful, but he had no other choice. "I'm sorry," he said, managing a small, apologetic smile. "It's just… I've got something urgent to take care of."
Mr. Parker crossed his arms, his brow furrowed with confusion. "Are you sure about this, Ethan?"
"Absolutely," Ethan replied, his voice steadier now. "I've got a few things lined up. Thanks for everything, Mr. Parker."
Before anyone could ask more questions or prolong the discussion, Ethan grabbed his backpack and made for the door. His heart raced, adrenaline surging as he stepped out into the morning light.
The next step was the bank—a challenge he wasn't sure how to navigate but was determined to face head-on.
For better or worse, there was no turning back now.
***
"This is it," Ethan muttered under his breath as he stepped into the bank. The air inside was thick with quiet murmurs, the low hum of conversations blending with the mechanical whir of machines.
Everything about the place felt heavy and official, a stark contrast to the growing uncertainty twisting in his stomach.
Ethan approached the counter, where a young woman in her twenties was scrolling through her phone. Her posture radiated boredom, and she barely glanced up as he approached, a fact that made his heart pound all the more.
"Good afternoon. How can I help you?" she asked, her tone detached and uninterested.
Ethan swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "I'd like to make a withdrawal," he said, his voice steady despite the way his nerves felt frayed.
"Sure," she replied, still not looking up. Her fingers tapped idly on the counter. "How much?"
"Five hundred thousand dollars," Ethan said, the words escaping almost too quickly. He managed to keep his tone calm, but his legs felt as though they might give way beneath him.
That caught her attention. She froze mid-scroll and finally looked up, her expression a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "I'm sorry—what?"
"You heard me," Ethan replied, his heart thudding. "I'd like to withdraw five hundred thousand dollars."
A smirk spread across her face, one that Ethan found both infuriating and oddly predictable. "Okay, buddy. Is this some kind of joke? Because if it is, I'm really not in the mood."
The irritation in her tone stung, but Ethan kept his composure. He'd read her nametag—Suzanne—and something in her dismissiveness made him determined to hold his ground.
'Why would I joke about something like this?' he thought but resisted saying aloud.
"It's not a joke," he said firmly. "I need the money. In cash."
Suzanne's smirk faltered into a frown, her skepticism deepening as she eyed him from head to toe. "Alright, fine," she said with a sigh, her voice tinged with condescension. "Let me check your account balance. Let's see how far this act goes."
She reached out, clearly expecting him to hand over identification. "ID, please."
Ethan handed it over, sensing her disbelief even in the way she snatched the card. He tried not to let it bother him. 'This is just the first hurdle,' he told himself.
Suzanne began typing, her fingers moving with practiced efficiency. Ethan watched her expression closely, noticing the moment her smugness gave way to something else entirely. Her hands stilled on the keyboard, her brow furrowing as her eyes widened in shock.
"What…?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. She blinked at the screen as though it might rewrite itself under her gaze.
Ethan couldn't help but smile faintly, though he kept his tone even as he asked, "Is everything alright?"
Suzanne looked up at him, her expression now a blend of disbelief and panic. "You… you have a billion dollars in this account?"
The words came out louder than she likely intended, and heads began to turn. Whispers rippled through the room as customers shifted in their seats to get a better look at the young man standing at the counter.
"Yes," Ethan said, his voice calm but tinged with amusement. "I know. So, about that five hundred thousand…"
Suzanne's face turned pale, and she quickly straightened, her earlier attitude vanishing. "I—I'm so sorry, Mr. Cole," she stammered. "I'll need to call the manager. Please wait here for a moment."
Before he could respond, she hurried off, leaving Ethan standing at the counter. He frowned, confusion creeping into his thoughts. 'Why involve the manager?' he wondered. 'Isn't this just a withdrawal?'
As Suzanne walked away, she berated herself internally. 'What was I thinking? Reacting like that…'
She knew that even a minor complaint from someone of Ethan's wealth could cause significant trouble for her. The realization made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
Meanwhile, Ethan could feel the stares of other customers pressing in on him. He caught snippets of their whispers, their incredulity almost palpable.
A billion dollars? To most, it was an unimaginable figure. This kind belonged in news stories, not in the hands of a casually dressed young man.
Ethan ignored them, his focus shifting back to his own swirling thoughts. This wasn't the experience he'd anticipated, but in some strange way, he couldn't deny the satisfaction of having surprised Suzanne.
'It's not a feeling I should enjoy… but maybe just this once,' he thought, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
Moments later, a middle-aged man in a sharp suit approached, his steps deliberate and his expression carefully controlled. "Mr. Cole," he said, his tone polite but tinged with unease. "Would you mind coming with me to my office? We'll handle this there."
Ethan hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He was trembling.