Godly Investor: A Hundred Trillion Dollars For Investment And Donations

Ethan stood still, his eyes scanning the smug faces around him. He didn't speak, but his mind was racing.

' If only they knew who I really am,' he thought coldly.

'They wouldn't dare treat me like this.'

The security guards tightened their grip on his arms, their movements aggressive as though trying to assert control. One of them jerked his shoulder forward. "Move," the man barked, his voice laced with authority.

Ethan didn't flinch. Instead, he straightened, his calm gaze piercing through the commotion.

"Let go," he said, his voice firm, carrying an unmistakable weight.

However The guards hesitated, confused by the sudden change in the atmosphere.

"I'll walk to the interrogation room myself," Your next journey awaits at empire

Ethan continued, his tone sharp and commanding. It wasn't a request—it was an order.

The air seemed to shift, a subtle yet undeniable pressure radiating from him. The guards glanced at each other uneasily, their grip loosening as they stepped back without another word.

Ethan adjusted his jacket, his movements deliberate, then turned to face the manager with an icy stare. Without waiting for a response, he began walking toward the interrogation room, his presence alone leaving the room heavy with tension.

Ethan took a deep breath, his expression unreadable as he walked steadily down the corridor toward the interrogation room.

There was no need to fight or run. That would only escalate the situation, turning it into a spectacle he couldn't afford. If his name ended up splashed across the media, attached to the words five billion dollars, the consequences would be far more severe than a few minutes in this room.

At that moment he pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. The room was stark, with a single metal table and two chairs under a harsh overhead light. Ethan moved to the seat without a word, his movements calm and deliberate. He sat down, resting his hands on the table as he waited.

The door opened behind him, and the security men entered, their heavy boots thudding against the tiled floor. Without hesitation, one of them pulled out a pair of handcuffs, the metallic click breaking the silence.

Ethan didn't resist as they cuffed his wrists to the table. His gaze remained steady, his calm demeanor unwavering even as the cuffs tightened around his wrists. The guards stepped back, their eyes watching him warily, but Ethan sat perfectly still, giving nothing away.

At that moment the manager entered the room, his smug expression firmly in place as he sat across from Ethan. He adjusted his tie, letting the silence linger for a moment before speaking.

"So," the manager began, leaning forward slightly. "Why don't you tell me how you got rich all of a sudden?"

However Ethan didn't respond, his face calm and composed, which seemed to irritate the manager even more. The man smirked and pulled out a folder, flipping it open with exaggerated flair.

"Let's take a little trip down memory lane, shall we?" the manager said, his tone dripping with mockery. He began reading aloud, his voice slow and deliberate, clearly enjoying himself.

"One dollar. Two dollars. Withdraw." He glanced up briefly to gauge Ethan's reaction but found nothing.

Then he continued, "Three dollars. Five dollars. Withdraw. One dollar. One dollar. Withdraw."

The manager kept going, reading every small transaction Ethan had ever made since opening his account, his voice practically dripping with condescension. The repetition was almost comical, but Ethan's expression didn't waver, not even once.

When the manager finally finished, he closed the folder with a loud slap, leaning back in his chair with a triumphant grin. "And then," he said, drawing out the words, "out of nowhere, five billion dollars lands in your account. So, tell me, Ethan—how does a guy who barely had lunch money suddenly become a billionaire?"

At that moment the room fell silent, the question hanging in the air as the manager leaned forward, waiting for Ethan to explain the unexplainable.

However Ethan leaned back in the cold metal chair, his expression calm but calculating. He uncrossed his arms and fixed the manager with a piercing gaze. "Who else knows about this?" he asked, his voice steady but carrying an edge that demanded honesty.

The manager smirked, clearly amused by the question. "The police chief knows," he said with a shrug. "The bank's higher-ups, of course. It hasn't reached the media yet… but give it time. That all depends on how you handle this, Ethan."

Ethan nodded slowly, absorbing the answer. Then, with deliberate ease, he crossed one leg over the other and rested his hands on his knee. "I want my lawyer," he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

The manager's amusement boiled over into laughter, loud and mocking. "A lawyer?" he repeated, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "Do you think this is a police station?"

He leaned forward, his grin wide and condescending. "You don't get that luxury here. This is about the bank's reputation. About five billion dollars that showed up in your account from nowhere. And trust me, you're going to answer my questions right now."

Ethan's face remained unreadable as the manager continued. "For some reason, the source of those funds hasn't been traceable. Not even a hint of where they came from." His voice lowered, each word measured and deliberate. "And you know what that tells me? That money came from a criminal source."

The room fell silent, the accusation hanging in the air like a dark cloud. The manager leaned back, clearly pleased with himself, his eyes locked on Ethan, waiting for the response he was certain would come.

Ethan sat silently for a moment, letting the manager's smugness hang in the air. Then, with a calm tone, he finally spoke. "I have a hospital. It generates steady income. And I'm part of a business group—that's where most of the wealth came from."

Upon hearing what Ethan just said the manager froze for a second before bursting into loud, mocking laughter. He slapped the table, shaking his head as though Ethan had just told the most ridiculous joke he'd ever heard. "A business group?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you think we're children here? You expect me to believe that?"

He leaned closer, his grin fading into a sneer. "Ethan, let me make something very clear. You'd better stop with the fairy tales and start answering my questions properly. Otherwise, we'll have no choice but to send you straight to the capital. Let them deal with you there."

However Ethan tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Well," he said quietly, "it seems we won't be able to talk as friends anymore."

Before the manager could react, there was a sharp metallic click. Ethan raised his wrists, the handcuffs no longer binding them, as he calmly set them on the table. His movements were deliberate, his gaze cold and unwavering as the manager's smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of unease.

immediately The room fell into a stunned silence as Ethan calmly placed the handcuffs on the table. The security men exchanged glances, their shock quickly morphing into aggression. One of them barked, "Get him!" and they lunged at Ethan, their heavy boots thudding against the floor.

Ethan didn't flinch. In a single fluid motion, he countered their attack, sending all of them sprawling to the ground in a heap. The room was still again, save for the groans of the guards struggling to get back on their feet. Ethan stood tall, his expression unbothered, as if what just happened required no effort at all.

The manager was frozen in his chair, his jaw slack with disbelief. "What… what the hell is going on here?" he sputtered, his voice rising. "What the hell are you thinking, Ethan? Do you think you can just run? You fool! You'll be caught before you even think of stepping out of this bank!"

Ethan didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned around and walked toward the door, his steps slow and deliberate. The sound of the heavy door clicking shut as he locked it sent a shiver through the room. He turned back, his eyes meeting the manager's wide, terrified gaze.

"Who said," Ethan began, his voice low and cutting, "that I'm running?"