At the mention of his grandfather's name, the bank manager burst into an uncontrollable laughter.
"You… think… you… are… Sir James Baristan's grandson? In your dreams," the man said between fits of laughter.
"Why are you laughing? I'm telling the truth!" Nelson protested loudly.
"Be quiet, boy!" The man said harshly. "Did you think that I wouldn't know if Sir James Baristan had a grandson? I suspected something fishy immediately you mentioned you name but I didn't know you would stoop so low as to take your lies even lower by claiming to be his grandson.
"How about you call him and ask him then? He'll be able to confirm it for you," Nelson pressed.
"My, my, you really are a stubborn trouble maker. I have known Sir Baristan for over twelve years and within that timeframe, I have been to his estate countless times. In all of those times, never did he make mention of having a grandson. Young man, you're not a thief and a liar, you're adding impersonation to your crimes as well? How pathetic of you. You deserve to be locked up in prison for life!" The manager shouted.
"Just call to clarify at least before jumping into conclusions!" Nelson shouted. "My grandfather would let you know that I am only speaking the truth!"
"Who do you think you are that I would waste Sir James Baristan's precious time over?!" The manager asked.
"Alright, alright. How about you call the head manager of the Baristan Company, then? Since my grandfather is too high, call the head manager and he himself will also attest to my truth," Nelson suggested.
"Young man, I admire the effort you have put into crafting this great lie of yours but it's time to give it up and face your punishment." Saying that, the manager turned around to leave the room while Nelson kept pleading and shouting for him to call either his grandfather or the company's head manager.
As he left the room, he instructed the security guards to keep a close eye on him while he called the police officers to come pick him up.
As he walked away, he relayed all that had happened between Nelson and himself to his assistant who simply laughed along with him.
When he got to his office, he decided to call the Baristan Company's head manager to report of Nelson and his attempt to steal from the company under the guide of being Sir James Baristan's grandson.
The head manager picked on the first ring. "Good Day, Mr Monroe, the head manager greeted.
"A good day to you too, as well, sir," the bank manager greeted in return.
"Why have you decided to call? This isn't our normal meeting day, I'm sure you're aware?" The head manager asked.
"Oh, yes, I am quite aware," the bank manager replied. "I'm actually calling about a little incident that occurred at the bank today."
"What sort of incident could that be, Mr Monroe? I hope the Baristan's funds are safely secured and yielding profits?" The head manager asked.
"Of course, of course, everything is very secured. In fact, I was about to let you that we just apprehended a thief and a fraud who tried to steal from the company," the bank manager said happily.
"What do you mean, Mr Monroe? The head manager asked, intrigued. "How would anybody dare steal from the Baristan empire? And in broad daylight as well?"
"It was quite a funny situation but never mind, we've handled it as effectively as we could," the manager said.
"Tell me about it," the head manager said.
"Well, sir, a young man came in here claiming to Sir James Baristan's grandson," the bank manager said laughing. "Isn't that a funny situation?"
The head manager didn't reply him immediately but rather paused.
"Hello, sir? Are you still there? The bank manager asked.
"What was his name?" The head manager asked, his voice changing from a casual tone to a strict one.
"He said his name was Nelson Baristan and he claimed to be grandson of Sir Baristan, claiming his late mother to be the daughter of Sir Baristan as well. Such a stubborn brat, I tell you. He simply refused to refute his claims and continued arguing about it. He even suggested I called the chairman himself himself to ask. Imagine the petulance of such a child, sir!" The bank manager kept on talking and telling the head manager about how he argued with the so-called grandson of James Baristan and how he's currently locked up in the bank's cell awaiting the arrival of actual police officers to take him away, without noticing that the head manager had gone completely silent on the other line.
"MR MONROE!" The head manager screamed, making the bank manager jump out of freight. "RELEASE HIM IMMEDIATELY!"
"Sir? What do you mean? I'm telling you that boy is a liar and a thief. Who knows where he got that black card from-" but before he could continue, the head manager shouted even loudly.
"YOU IDIOT! I SAID RELEASE HIM! THAT IS TRULY THE GRANDSON OF SIR JAMES BARISTAN! THAT IS THE ONLY LIVING RELATIVE OF THE CHAIRMAN AND THE HEIR TO THE BARISTAN EMPIRE!"
The bank manager, Mr. Monroe, stiffens at the head manager's furious outburst. His grip tightens around the phone as his heart pounds in his chest.
"Sir… I-I don't understand," he stammers. "This boy—he has nothing to do with the Barristan family! You must be mistaken."
A sharp inhale echoes through the receiver. "Mistaken?" The head manager's voice is laced with disbelief. "You just insulted and imprisoned the direct heir of the Barristan Empire, and you dare question me?"
Monroe's face drains of color. His assistant, who had been laughing moments ago, now looks equally horrified.
"If you don't release him immediately," the head manager growls, "you will not only lose your position, but you will be blacklisted from the entire financial industry. Do you understand what that means, Mr. Monroe?"
Sweat beads on Monroe's forehead. He swallows hard, his hands shaking.
"I—I'll handle it at once, sir!"
"Not just that," the head manager continues coldly. "You will personally apologize and make amends for this disgraceful incident. If you so much as make another mistake, you'll regret ever stepping foot in that bank."
The line goes dead.
Monroe stands frozen. Then, snapping into action, he rushes out of his office, nearly knocking over his assistant in his panic.
Nelson sat in the dimly lit cell, his arms resting on his knees, his mind a whirlwind of emotions.
Anger burned deep in his chest, but beneath that was something even worse—confusion.
Was this all a dream? Or just a big joke played on me?
The entire situation felt unreal. One moment, he was being mocked and accused of fraud. The next, he was being told he was the heir to a trillion-dollar empire.
If it was true… why had no one told him before? Why had his mother suffered? Why had he grown up with nothing?
He clenched his fists.
If this was a game, he was sick of playing the losing side.
The heavy metal door swung open with a bang.
Mr. Monroe rushed in, his face pale with sweat dripping down his forehead. His once-confident smirk had been replaced with pure panic.
"Mr. B-Barristan," he stammered, his voice shaking. "Please, forgive me! I-I had no idea—"
Nelson slowly raised his head, his dark eyes locking onto Monroe's.
"You laughed at me," he said quietly.
Monroe swallowed hard. "It was a mistake! A grave misunderstanding! Please—"
Nelson didn't move.
For the first time, Monroe realized that the young man in front of him wasn't just some helpless student.
There was something about him—a presence that made the air feel heavy.
Monroe took a shaky step back.
"I-It won't happen again, I swear!"
Nelson stood up.
Without another word, he walked past Monroe, out of the cell.
The moment Nelson stepped into the main hall of the bank, everything changed.
Staff members, who had previously looked down on him, now stood frozen, eyes wide with horror.
Guards who had manhandled him before now straightened up, avoiding eye contact as if afraid he might have them fired on the spot.
One of the female receptionists, the same one who had sneered at him earlier, rushed forward with a forced smile.
"Sir, please—allow me to escort you to the VIP lounge."
Another employee hurried forward. "Would you like some refreshments? Anything at all?"
Nelson stopped in his tracks.
For a moment, he just stared at them.
The sudden shift in attitude… the fear in their eyes…
It was surreal.
Almost like he had stepped into a different reality.
Was this really happening?
His fingers twitched at his sides, but he kept his expression unreadable.
"Just give me what I came for," he said at last.
The entire bank staff tensed, waiting for his next words.
"I just need my school fees."
Silence.
Mr. Monroe, who had been standing behind him, stiffened.
"…Pardon?"
Nelson turned his head slightly.
"My school fees," he repeated, his voice calm but firm. "That's all."
The entire hall was so quiet that even the soft whirring of the air conditioning felt deafening.
The manager's mouth opened, then closed, as if struggling to process the request.
Here stood the heir to a trillion-dollar empire… and all he asked for was his school fees?
No demands for wealth. No anger over what had happened. Just… school fees.
For the first time, Monroe felt something worse than fear—he felt shame.
"Y-Yes! Of course, sir!" Monroe scrambled to give the order.
As Nelson stood there, watching the bank employees rush to fulfill his request, the reality of his situation started to sink in.
This wasn't a joke.
This wasn't a dream.
He really was Nelson Barristan.
And his life was about to change forever.