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.

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

She blinked, caught off guard by the name. "NovaTech?" 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.

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 fleeting second, Ethan saw red. But he swallowed the anger, keeping his face calm. 'It's not a crime to wear a tracksuit,' he thought, though the sting of their mockery lingered. 'It's just a mistake I won't make again.'

His mind raced, weighing his options. A heated response would only escalate things, and outright revealing his wealth could attract exactly the wrong kind of attention.

Ethan paused, debating whether to let their arrogance slide or teach them a lesson. 'Having money doesn't give me the right to be arrogant,' he reminded himself.

Taking a steady breath, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With measured precision, he tapped a few times on the screen.

Then, without saying a word, he turned the device toward the woman, holding it firmly so she could see.

On the screen was his Premier digital card from Novan Bank, its sleek design and gleaming logo unmistakable.

They knew exactly what that card represented—an exclusive status reserved for those with substantial wealth.

Ethan decided this was the better approach, a quiet flex, rather than flashing the exact figures in his account.

It was enough. That card spoke volumes—a symbol of wealth so significant it could silence even the most vocal skeptics.

"Does this hold any weight here?" Ethan asked, his voice calm and almost casual, though his eyes betrayed a quiet satisfaction.

The woman froze, her confident demeanor crumbling in an instant. Her complexion turned pale as her gaze locked onto the screen, her lips parting but no sound escaping.

"N-no way," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her colleague leaned in closer, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. "That has to be fake. There's no way you're a Premier client. People like you don't—"

Ethan raised an eyebrow, biting back a sigh. Why do they always say 'people like you'?

He found the whole situation amusingly absurd, like a scene from one of those novels where the protagonist dramatically turns the tables. But this wasn't fiction—it was his increasingly surreal reality.

And... he did not wish to be like that.

"Call the bank if you doubt me," Ethan interrupted, his voice calm but firm. "Verify Ethan Cole or this ID. I'll wait."

He leaned slightly forward, the faintest trace of a smile playing on his lips. "Though, if your agency struggles with such a simple task, I'm beginning to question whether your services are worth my time—or money."

It wasn't a dramatic slam of words, but it carried weight. Ethan didn't shout or gloat, but there was something in his measured tone that made the woman flinch.

Her colleague opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it, wisely deciding to remain silent. Sally, on the other hand, seemed torn between indignation and unease.

The sudden power shift had rattled her composure, but she attempted to regain control.

"I—I've got a contact at Novan Bank," Sally stammered. "She can confirm this for us." Her fingers trembled slightly as she grabbed her phone and quickly dialed the number.

The phone rang a few times before a familiar voice answered. Ethan's ears perked up as he recognized it almost immediately—Suzanne, the bank teller. A flicker of amusement crossed his face.

"Hi, Suzanne!" Sally said, her voice forced into a strained politeness. "It's Sally from Skyline Estates. I need to confirm something about a client—Ethan Cole. Does he really hold Premier status?"

There was a pause, and then Suzanne's voice came through the line, sharp with surprise. "Ethan Cole? Wait—are you saying Ethan Cole is there with you? Right now?"

Sally's face paled as she stole a glance at Ethan, who was now watching her with an expression of mild curiosity as if he were wondering what she might say next.

"Y-yes," Sally stuttered. "He's here… Is there a problem?"

Suzanne's tone turned sharp. "Sally, tell me you haven't upset him. Is that why you're calling? Did something happen?"

Sally's grip on the phone tightened, her stomach twisting. "I… might have," she admitted, her voice unsteady.

"Sally," Suzanne cut her off, her voice firm. "Do you even know who Ethan Cole is? He's one of Novan City's wealthiest clients—top 0.01%. I can't give details, but trust me, he's not someone you want to mess with."

Sally's heart sank. She glanced at Ethan, who stood quietly, his expression calm but unreadable. No anger. No satisfaction. Just a silence that felt heavier than any outburst could have been.

Suzanne's voice came through again, sharp and urgent. "Whatever you've done, fix it. Now. This isn't something you want coming back to you."

Sally lowered the phone, her hand trembling. The confident façade she had worn so easily moments ago was gone, leaving her visibly shaken and unsure.

Her colleague, who just moments before had been basking in his own arrogance, now leaned forward, his face a portrait of barely concealed anxiety.

"What… what did she say?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as though speaking louder might summon some catastrophe.

The room grew uncomfortably quiet. Agents who had previously chuckled or whispered their judgments about Ethan now exchanged uneasy glances.

They all knew Suzanne—not just as a bank employee but as someone whose voice carried weight in their business. If Suzanne had reacted like this, something was amiss, and the tension was almost palpable.

Sally, swallowing hard, finally managed to speak, though her voice was hoarse and uneven. "She said…" she hesitated, as though saying it out loud would make it even more real. "She said Mr. Cole is… among the top 0.01% of the wealthiest clients in Novan City."

Her words hit the room like a thunderclap. The once-mocking agents now looked utterly mortified, their self-assurance evaporating into thin air. One visibly gulped, while another cast an embarrassed glance at the floor as though hoping it might open up and swallow them whole.

Ethan watched their discomfort with a quiet, measured expression. For a moment, he felt a flicker of satisfaction—he had made his point—but it was quickly overtaken by a deeper feeling.

This entire situation was beneath him now, a distraction from his actual goals.

Without a word, Ethan turned toward the door. His steps echoed in the now-silent office, each one a quiet rebuke.

"W-wait!" Sally's voice broke through the hush, tinged with desperation. "Mr. Cole, I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding. Please, let me make it right! I'll show you any property you want—just give me a chance!"

Ethan paused but didn't turn around. His reply was calm but resolute. "No, thanks. I'm no longer interested."

Ethan's hand rested on the door handle, but he paused, turning to look back. His eyes were steady and sharp, cutting through the room like a blade.

The agents shifted uncomfortably, their confidence faltering under his gaze. The air grew tense, as though everyone was waiting to see what he would do next.

"I wonder," Ethan said, his voice steady but sharp, "what would happen if I left a review. Once my name is well-known in this city, do you think people would still want to deal with you?"

The room was frozen. Ethan turned fully, his tone turning colder. "Perhaps I'll include everyone's name here. So the next time someone searches for Skyline Estates, they'll know exactly who not to trust."

The room seemed to freeze in time as Ethan's words sank in, their weight settling like an unexpected frost. Sally's face drained of color, and her colleague looked as though someone had pulled the rug out from under him.

For the first time, their confidence and condescension faltered, giving way to an understanding of just how badly they had miscalculated.

It wasn't difficult for them to imagine the future—a future where Ethan Cole, already among the wealthiest in the city, became a towering name in business.

A billionaire on the rise with a growing company and an expanding network. And what if, as his influence spread, he decided to share the story of how he was treated at Skyline Estates?

Their wealthy clientele, none of whom likely held less than twenty million dollars in assets, would side with him in an instant. After all, aligning oneself with someone of Ethan's stature was not just good business—it was essential.

The fallout was painfully clear to everyone in the room, and it hung in the air like an unspoken verdict.

Their smug arrogance and dismissive glances suddenly felt like the most foolish mistakes they had ever made, and the consequences of those mistakes now loomed like an oncoming storm.

There was no undoing it, no clever wordplay or hasty apology that could erase what had just happened.

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!