The Tables Turn

Her smirk slipped slightly, caught off guard by Ethan's calm reply. For a moment, uncertainty flickered in her eyes.

"Oh? And what company would that be?" she asked, trying to sound amused.

"Nova Tech Innovations," Ethan replied, his voice even but with an unmistakable edge of irritation.

She blinked, caught off guard by the name. "Nova Tech?" she repeated, dragging out the syllables as though testing their weight. "Never heard of it."

"We're a startup," Ethan said simply, though his growing frustration was evident. "That's precisely why I'm here. To find an office space or building."

The woman glanced at her colleague, her amusement now edged with confusion. "A startup, huh? Well," she said with a small laugh, "anyone can call themselves a founder these days."

Her colleague, a man whose grin seemed permanently fixed, added with a chuckle, "Exactly. But, here's some advice."

He continued in a mocking tone, "You could save a fortune by starting in a garage or something. Who knows? Maybe one day you'll have a great story' From a dorm room to a skyscraper!' "

Ethan felt his patience fraying but kept his composure. He leaned forward slightly, meeting their eyes with a steady, piercing gaze.

"I see. Thanks for the advice," he said, his voice calm but firm, the kind of calm that could unsettle even the most confident. "But may I ask, why am I being treated like this?"

The laughter between the two agents died down, but only for a moment. The woman exchanged another glance with her colleague, and then, to Ethan's dismay, they laughed again—this time louder, more incredulous.

"Why?" she repeated as though the question itself were ridiculous. "Let me be honest with you, Mr. Startup. We know well what kind of people are you."

"What do you mean?" Ethan asked.

"Stop pretending. Call your camera guy here. You guys are recording for content," said the woman. "We've been dealing with people calling it social experiment by dressing like this to purchase expensive properties."

Her colleague nodded, still grinning. "Look, even if you're not doing content, we've been doing this for years. We can tell who's serious and who's just wasting time. No offense, but…"

His gaze flicked up and down Ethan's tracksuit. "…you're not exactly the type we'd expect to buy anything here. Unless, of course, you're secretly a billionaire."

He laughed, adding with a theatrical shrug, "But let's face it. Billionaires don't show up in university tracksuits."

For a moment, Ethan felt the heat rise in his chest.

He wasn't exactly angry, just… mildly offended.

'Pretty sure it's not illegal to wear a tracksuit,' he thought. 'Okay, maybe it's a little too casual for this place. Lesson learned.'

He could have snapped back. Could have dropped his full account balance like a dramatic twist in one of those over-the-top web novels. But honestly, that wasn't his style.

Besides, there was something oddly entertaining about watching them underestimate him.

With a calm breath, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. A few taps later, he turned the screen around and held it up for them to see.

The Premier Client digital card from Novan Bank gleamed under the lobby lights. Subtle. Sleek. Undeniable.

It was the kind of card you didn't wave around in public. Not unless you wanted to cause heart palpitations in finance managers.

Ethan tilted his head slightly. "This mean anything to you?"

The woman's expression faltered. Just for a split second, her eyes widened. Her brain clearly registered what she was looking at… but her pride refused to yield.

Ethan almost laughed. He really did. But he managed to keep a straight face, despite the mental image of someone adding suspenseful violin music to his visit.

Her colleague leaned over with a skeptical frown. "That card could be fake. Anyone can Photoshop that."

"Sure," Ethan said, nodding slowly. "But can anyone call the bank and verify it?"

That gave them pause.

Ethan offered the faintest smile. "You're welcome to try. Ethan Cole. Novan Bank. Premier client."

The name dropped like a stone into still water. The woman—Sally, her nametag said—hesitated, chewing on the inside of her cheek before snatching her phone off the desk.

"I'll call someone," she muttered, already dialing.

As she put the phone to her ear, Ethan leaned on the desk, casually examining a brochure titled 'Elevated Spaces for Elevated Clients' with a photo of a rooftop view that looked straight out of a luxury magazine.

After a few rings, a voice answered on the other end—and Ethan recognized it immediately.

Suzanne.

The bank teller from the Novan Trust branch. Friendly, meticulous, and definitely after what happened yesterday, she would not be someone who enjoyed unnecessary drama.

"Suzanne, hi! This is Sally from Skyline Estates. I need to confirm a client's status—Ethan Cole. Does he really hold Premier status?"

There was silence on the other end… followed by Suzanne's voice, sharp and incredulous.

"Wait. Ethan Cole? He's there? At your office? Right now?"

Sally faltered. "Uh… yes?"

A pause.

Then Suzanne's tone dropped like a hammer. "Please tell me you didn't treat him like a prankster. Did something happen? Because if it did—"

"I didn't mean to... I mean..." Sally stammered.

Ethan, now reading a floor plan of a ten-story building, looked up with a raised eyebrow. He hadn't expected Suzanne to go full corporate fury mode.

"Sally," Suzanne continued, firm and scolding, "I can't disclose client details. But Ethan Cole is one of the top clients in Novan City. And if he's there for property, you better fix whatever mess you've made. Immediately."

Sally's mouth went dry. She glanced at Ethan, who smiled politely like someone offering a cookie to the person who just insulted their shoes.

Her colleague leaned in, pale. "What did she say?"

Sally swallowed. "She said… we might've made a mistake."

Ethan closed the brochure and slid it neatly back into its place. He didn't look angry. He didn't raise his voice. But when he finally spoke, the tone was firm.

"Don't worry. I'm not here to cause trouble. But I do expect better service moving forward. If that's not possible here, I'll take my business somewhere else."

He turned toward the door, not storming off, just walking with that same casual calm he came in with.

"W-wait!" Sally called after him. "Mr. Cole, please, I can show you the best properties. Personally!"

Ethan paused and glanced back. "You already did."

Sally blinked. "I… did?"

"Yes," Ethan said with a soft smile. "You showed me the kind of service I won't settle for."

And with that, he stepped out of the glass doors, leaving behind a room full of agents now very aware that first impressions—and tracksuits—should never be underestimated.

Author's Note:

Hey everyone! 

So, this chapter had its fair share of feedback—let's just call it that! I've heard words like "bullshit chapter," "face-slapping like a Chinese novel," and, well… ouch. 

But honestly, I appreciate every single one of your comments, even the harsher ones. You all care about the story enough to share your thoughts, and that means the world to me. 

After reading through the critiques (and wincing a little), I decided to roll up my sleeves and do what needed to be done—edit this chapter! I've reworked the pacing, toned down the over-the-top moments, and hopefully delivered something that feels more organic and true to the story's tone.

Your feedback keeps me grounded and always pushes me to do better. Thank you for sticking with me and for being so brutally honest. If you've got more thoughts, feel free to share—I'm always listening. Let me know what you think of the updated chapter! 

Happy reading!