Inheriting Ten Trillion, Finding True Love

Chapter 4

Ethan's POV

We all turned towards the source of the voice, and I swear I heard a collective gasp. Standing there, looking like he'd just stepped off the magazine cover, was a man in his mid-thirties with a smile that could charm the scales of a snake.

The security guard's demeanor changed faster than a chameleon on a disco floor. "Mr. Oliver! Sir! I was just handling a situation here..."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I can see that. And what situation might that be?"

The coffee-soaked woman seized her chance. "This... this hooligan," she jabbed a finger at me, "assaulted me! Look at my blouse!"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Oliver beat me to it. "I see," he said, his voice smooth as butter. "Well, that is quite unfortunate. How about we remedy this situation?" He turned to the woman with a dazzling smile. "I'd be more than happy to buy you a new blouse. In fact, why don't you pick out two? On the company's account, of course."

The woman's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "I... well... that's very kind of you, but—"

"Excellent!" Oliver said, effectively cutting off any further protest. "Now that's settled, shall we?" He turned to me with a smile that could power a small city. "Are you alright, Mr Williams?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in attention. "Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Just a little... caffeinated." I gestured vaguely at my shirt, which had caught some coffee splash.

Oliver smiled. "Come on, let's head up to the top floor. We have a lot to discuss."

The security guard's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Sir, are you sure? This guy was trying to sneak in earlier and—"

"Nonsense," Oliver waved him off with the casual grace of someone swatting away a particularly annoying fly. "Mr. Williams here is a board member. I don't want to hear about anyone stopping him again, understood?"

The guard's face went through a series of impressive contortions, finally settling on a mix of shock and embarrassment. "A board member? But he... I mean... Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Won't happen again, sir."

Oliver clapped me on the shoulder, steering me towards the elevators. "Come along, Ethan. We have much to discuss."

My head was spinning faster than a drunk hamster on a wheel. One minute, I'm public enemy number one; the next, I'm being escorted by Mr. Charming himself. But something nagged at me, like an itch I couldn't quite scratch.

"Just a minute," I said, surprising myself with boldness. Oliver raised an eyebrow but nodded, releasing his grip on my shoulder.

I turned back to face the coffee-soaked woman, who was still standing there looking like she'd been hit by a caffeinated truck. Her mouth opened and closed, reminding me of a particularly confused goldfish.

"You," I said, pointing at her. "You accused me of assault."

She blinked. "I... you did ruin my blouse!"

"And for that," I continued, feeling a surge of confidence I'd never experienced, "you will get punishment."

The lobby fell so silent you could've heard a pin drop. Or, in this case, a coffee bean.

"P-punishment?" she stammered, her eyes wide as saucers.

I nodded solemnly. "Oh yes. Severe punishment."

The woman's face paled, her eyes darting between me and Oliver like she was watching a particularly intense tennis match.

"W-what kind of punishment?" she stammered.

I paused for dramatic effect, perhaps enjoying the moment too much. "You're going to clean up this mess."

Her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I said, gesturing to the coffee-stained floor. "Get down there and start scrubbing."

She let out a laugh that sounded more like a strangled hiccup. "You can't be serious. Do you have any idea who I am?"

I shrugged. "Nope. And frankly, I don't care. What I do care about is that you accused me of assault over a simple accident. So, you're going to clean up this coffee and go to every person in this building and tell them that you accused Ethan Williams falsely and that you're materialistic."

"You can't be serious! I'm not some... some janitor!"

I crossed my arms, feeling a surge of confidence I'd never experienced before. "Well, today you are. Consider it a learning experience in humility."

She turned to Oliver. "Mr. Oliver, surely you can't allow this... this nobody to order me around like this!"

Oliver's lips twitched like he was trying hard not to laugh. "I think it's an excellent idea. We've been having some issues with false accusations lately, and this seems like a perfect opportunity to address that."

Her face went through an impressive array of colors, settling on a shade of red that would make a tomato jealous. "But... but..."

"No buts," Oliver said firmly. "You made a scene, accused an innocent man, and now you're going to make amends. I expect to see this lobby spotless within the hour."

She spluttered incoherently before finally choking, "And what about the... the other part?"

I grinned. "Oh, you mean telling everyone about your false accusation and materialistic nature? Don't worry, we haven't forgotten about that."

Oliver nodded. "Indeed. Once you're done here, you'll make the rounds to every office on every floor. I'm sure our employees will find it... enlightening."

She looked like she was about to faint. Or explode. Or possibly both.

"This is... this is outrageous!" she screeched, her voice reaching a pitch that probably had dogs in the next county howling. "I won't do it! You can't make me!"

Oliver's smile never wavered, but his voice took on a steely edge. "Need I remind you that your position here is not irreplaceable? Plenty of talented individuals would be happy to take your place... and who understand the importance of integrity and humility."

The color drained from her face faster than water down a drain. "You... you wouldn't..."

"Try me," Oliver said simply.

For a moment, I thought she might stamp her foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Instead, she let out a long, dramatic sigh that probably took out half the oxygen in the room.

"Fine," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Where's the mop?"

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction as I watched her stomp off to find cleaning supplies, muttering under her breath about the injustice of it all. It was petty, sure, but after the day I'd had, I felt I deserved a little pettiness.

Oliver turned to me. "Well, Mr. Williams, shall we head upstairs? I believe we have some business to discuss."

I nodded, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded. "Lead the way," I said, following Oliver to the elevators.

As we stepped inside, I couldn't help but notice how pristine everything was. The elevator walls were polished to a mirror shine, and I caught sight of my disheveled reflection. Coffee stains, rumpled clothes, and a bewildered expression stared back at me. I looked like I'd just wrestled a caffeinated bear and lost.

On the other hand, Oliver looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine. His suit was crisp, his hair perfectly styled, and his smile probably made interns swoon and competitors weep.

The elevator zoomed upwards, my ears popping as we ascended at what felt like the speed of light. I glanced at Oliver, who seemed completely unfazed by the whole ordeal. Meanwhile, I was doing my best impression of a deer caught in headlights.

"So, uh, nice weather we're having," I blurted out, immediately wanting to smack myself. Weather? Really? That's the best I could come up with?

"Indeed. Though I imagine the view from up here might be a bit different from what you're used to."

I laughed. "Yeah, I'm more accustomed to the view from my apartment window. Mostly pigeons and the occasional drunk guy singing karaoke at 3 AM."

"Ah, the sweet sounds of city life."

Before I could further embarrass myself, the elevator dinged again, and the doors slid open, revealing a sight that made my jaw drop. The entire floor was a sea of gleaming marble and floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a panoramic view of the city that weakened my knees.

"Welcome," Oliver said, stepping out of the elevator with the casual grace of someone who belonged here. I followed, trying not to gawk like a tourist in Times Square.

"This way," he gestured, leading me down a hallway lined with what looked like original Picassos. I tried not to hyperventilate. My idea of fancy art was the motivational poster of a kitten hanging onto a branch I bought at a yard sale.