Tyler Wayne was stunned.
What's going on?
Mike Carter, the broke loser, suddenly had money? That was impossible! Tyler, as a rich kid, understood one thing well: rich people make money easily, while poor people struggle to climb even a single rung on the financial ladder. His mind raced to make sense of the situation. Was this some kind of fluke? A prank? There was no way Mike could outshine him, not here, not tonight.
"Mike, I don't know where you got your money, but I don't care!" Tyler shouted, masking his growing anxiety with bravado. "If Blue Sky Bar doesn't welcome me, I don't welcome it either!" His voice cracked slightly, betraying his nerves. He grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it on the table, the glass shattering dramatically. "Let's go!" he barked at his entourage.
"Wait!" Mike called out, his voice steady and unyielding. The calmness in Mike's tone froze Tyler in his tracks.
"What do you want now?" Tyler glared, his patience wearing thin.
Mike picked up a receipt from the bar counter. "It seems you haven't paid your tab, Mr. Wayne." He held the receipt up, letting the bold $500 figure gleam under the bar's dim lights.
Tyler snatched the receipt, his face darkening. "So what? It's just $500!" he spat, tossing his card to the bartender. He leaned back smugly, waiting for the transaction to go through.
The bartender swiped the card.
Beep, beep.
"Sorry," the bartender said, his tone apologetic yet firm. "There are insufficient funds."
Tyler's confident facade cracked. "Impossible!" he blurted out. He had just spent over $1,000 on Jessica Lee's live-stream. How could his card be empty? Grabbing the POS machine, he examined the screen. His card had been frozen.
His hands trembled as he pulled out another card, then another. Each one met the same fate. The decline messages flashed like ominous warnings.
"What the hell is going on?" Tyler muttered, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
Finally, he pulled out his phone and dialed his father. "Dad! Why can't I use my cards?" he demanded, his voice tinged with desperation.
On the other end, his father's voice was tense, almost panicked. "Don't even ask. The police are knocking on our door!"
"What?!" Tyler's heart sank. His father hung up abruptly, leaving him in a state of shock.
No, this can't be happening. Tyler thought, his mind racing. His family's wealth wasn't exactly clean, but they'd always had powerful connections to shield them. Had those connections failed?
Meanwhile, Mike watched Tyler's unraveling with a calm, almost detached expression. For once, he wasn't the one scrambling to find his footing.
With no other options, Tyler turned to his entourage. "Lend me some cash," he said, his tone more pleading than commanding. "I'll pay you back tomorrow."
His friends exchanged uneasy glances but eventually pooled together enough to cover the tab. Just as they were about to leave, Mike stepped in again.
"Hold on. There's one more thing," Mike said, his voice steady, each word deliberate.
"What now?" Tyler snapped, his frustration boiling over.
"You broke a bottle of Macallan 55. That was my bottle, and you need to pay for it." Mike's gaze was unwavering.
The room fell silent. Tyler's friends exchanged nervous glances.
"Fine! How much could it possibly cost?" Tyler scoffed, trying to regain his composure.
"Macallan 55—Limited Edition. $12,000," Mike said with a smirk.
What?! Tyler's eyes widened in disbelief. He stared at the price on the menu, hoping he'd misread it.
"Bartender," Mike called, "please handle Mr. Wayne's bill."
The bartender stepped forward, a grin playing on his lips. "Don't worry, we'll make sure he pays."
Before Tyler could protest, the bartender punched him square in the jaw, knocking him to the floor. The impact silenced the room for a moment before whispers and murmurs spread among the patrons.
"Consider that payment for now," the bartender said, looming over Tyler. "You have three days to bring the money, or we'll come collect it ourselves."
Tyler stumbled to his feet, his face bruised and battered. He glared at Mike with pure hatred. "You'll pay for this, Carter!" he spat.
Mike's voice was cold. "Pay for what? Your dad is under arrest for embezzling $4 million. Without him, you're nothing."
Tyler's eyes widened. "You're lying!"
Mike grabbed another bottle of Macallan, shattered the neck, and poured the whiskey over Tyler.
"Remember this," Mike said with a smirk. "This is the best drink you'll ever have in your miserable life."
The bar staff promptly dragged Tyler out, leaving him in the alley like a discarded piece of trash. Tyler groaned as he hit the pavement, realizing just how far he'd fallen.
Mike sat at the bar, sipping his drink. The adrenaline was still rushing through him. For the first time, he felt the full weight of his newfound power.
"I'm done pretending," he muttered to himself. "Mike Carter—the heir to the Huntington fortune."
Just as he was getting comfortable, Jessica emerged from one of the private rooms, looking irritated. She glanced around and spotted Mike.
"Where's Tyler?" she demanded, marching over to him.
"Gone," Mike replied dismissively.
Jessica frowned. "And what are you doing here, drinking? I thought you loved me. You worked so hard for me, but I guess you're just wasting your life."
Mike laughed. So that's how she sees it?
"In your eyes, when rich people drink, it's charming. But when I drink, it's pathetic, right?" Mike shot back.
Jessica's expression darkened. "What are you even talking about? Using stolen money to act all high and mighty? Your mom must be so ashamed of you."
"What did you just say?" Mike's voice turned icy.
Jessica sneered. "Don't act clueless. You stole money from Zoe. You're lucky she's too kind to press charges. You should be ashamed."
Mike froze. "What are you talking about?"
Jessica grabbed her bag and turned to leave. "Ask your mom," she said over her shoulder.
Mike's heart sank. He immediately called Zoe.
"Mike! You're a thief. Thank God Jessica dumped you. Do you even have any morals?" Zoe's voice dripped with contempt.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Mike growled.
"You stole $300 from me! Your mom even returned it to me this morning. She had to borrow it from someone after coming straight out of the hospital!"
Mike's grip tightened around his phone. How could this be true? His mom had barely enough money to get by, let alone repay anyone. Something wasn't adding up.