Inheriting Ten Trillion, Finding True Love

Chapter 6

Ethan's POV

For a moment, I tensed, wondering if he was about to reveal some dark family secret. Instead, he said, "You need to buy some luxury clothes and look presentable."

I blinked, then burst out laughing. "That's it? That's the big revelation? I was expecting something like, 'By the way, your grandfather is actually an alien,' and instead, I get fashion advice?"

"I assure you, Mr. Williams, this is quite serious. Your grandfather is... particular about appearances."

"Right, because nothing says 'I care about my long-lost grandson' like judging his wardrobe," I muttered. Then, realizing I probably shouldn't be snarking at the guy holding the keys to my newfound fortune, I quickly added, "But hey, who am I to argue? If Gramps wants me in a fancy suit, then a fancy suit he shall get."

I paused, considering. "I think I know the person who can help me with this. My friend Jess - well, Jessica, but everyone calls her Jess - she's like a walking fashion encyclopedia. Pretty sure she could make a garbage bag look haute couture."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "A friend? I was merely... curious about the nature of your relationship with this Jessica."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why? Is there some clause in the inheritance that says I can't have female friends? Because if so, I've got to say, Gramps is really taking this controlling thing to a new level."

"Not at all. I was simply... gathering information."

I raised an eyebrow at Oliver's comment. "Gathering information? What are you, the CIA? There's not much to gather, really. Jess is my roommate and a friend. That's it, end of story."

"Ah, I see. I've actually observed Ms. Jessica a few times. I was merely confirming whether she might be your girlfriend."

I nearly choked on air. "You've what now? Observed her? Are you telling me you've been spying on me?"

"Something like that," Oliver replied, completely unruffled by my indignation. "It's part of my job to keep an eye on potential heirs."

"Right, because that's not creepy at all," I muttered. "Well, for the record, Jess is just a friend. Nothing more, nothing less. Is there anything else you'd like to know about my personal life?"

"No, that will be all for now. I'll contact you if there's anything else we need to discuss before your meeting tomorrow."

"Great," I said. "So, just to recap: I've got a mysteriously alive grandfather, a fortune waiting in the wings, and a to-do list that includes getting hitched before I hit 27. Oh, and I need to buy some fancy threads. Did I miss anything?"

"That about covers it," Oliver replied. "I'll send you the details for tomorrow's meeting. And do make sure to purchase those luxury clothes. Your grandfather can be... particular about appearances."

"Alright," I said, standing up and stretching. My joints protested, reminding me I'd been sitting in that fancy chair for too long. "I'll go shopping for some threads to make my dear old grandpa proud."

Oliver nodded. "I'm sure you'll manage just fine. We'll meet again soon, Mr. Williams. Perhaps next time, you'll be better dressed for the occasion."

"Hey now," I protested, looking down at my decidedly non-luxury attire. "I'll have you know this is peak fashion... for a waiter who just quit his job and had his life turned upside down."

"Indeed," Oliver said. "I look forward to seeing your... transformation."

I stepped out of the meeting room, my head spinning. Was this real life, or had I fallen into some bizarre alternate dimension where long-lost grandfathers handed millions like candy?

I pinched myself. Ouch. Okay, definitely real.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd wake up back in my tiny apartment any moment now. The whole scenario felt surreal, like a fever dream induced by too many late-night shifts and insufficient sleep.

I pulled out my phone, hands shaking slightly as I opened my banking app.

There it was—ten million dollars—sitting there like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I stared at the screen, half expecting the numbers to vanish or rearrange themselves into something more sensible—like ten dollars. But nope, those zeros stubbornly refused to budge.

"Well," I muttered, "I guess I'm rich now. That's... a thing that's happening."

I made my way out of Paradise Towers, feeling floating. The world seemed different somehow, brighter and more vivid. Was this how rich people saw things all the time? If so, no wonder they were always smiling in those magazine photos.

As I hit the sidewalk, my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since before this circus started. I spotted a cafe across the street, its windows gleaming and its outdoor seating area filled with people who looked like they belonged in a fashion magazine.

"Perfect," I grinned. "Time to test out this whole 'being rich' thing."

I sauntered into the cafe, trying to look like I belonged. The menu board behind the counter listed prices that would have choked me a few hours ago. Now? Well, why not splurge a little?

I approached the counter, eyeing the array of pastries that looked like they belonged in a museum rather than a cafe.

The barista raised an eyebrow at me, his perfectly groomed mustache twitching slightly as he did so. "What can I get for you, sir?" he asked, his tone suggesting he wasn't sure I could afford anything in the place.

I cleared my throat, channeling my inner millionaire. "I'll take two of your finest coffees, please. And those pastry things that look like angels touched them."

The barista's other eyebrow joined the first. "You mean the hand-crafted, gold-leaf dusted croissants?"

"Yeah, those. Two of them. To go, please."

As he rang up my order, I couldn't help but wince at the total. It was more than I used to make in a day at the restaurant. But hey, I was a millionaire now, right? Time to act like it.

I pulled out my card, the one I'd never used before. It felt heavy in my hand as if it were made of more than just plastic. Probably wasn't, but a guy can dream, right?

"Will that be credit or debit?" the barista asked, sounding slightly less skeptical now that he saw my card.

"Uh, debit," I said, trying to sound confident. I held my breath as I tapped the card against the reader. For a moment, nothing happened, and I had a brief, horrifying vision of Oliver jumping out from behind a potted plant and yelling, "Gotcha! It was all a prank!"

But then the machine beeped, and the word "APPROVED" flashed on the screen. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

The barista's attitude did a complete 180. Suddenly, I was his new best friend. "Excellent choice, sir," he gushed as he handed me my order. "Enjoy your day!"

I stepped out of the cafe, clutching my fancy coffee and pastries like they were made of gold. Given the price tag, they might as well have been. The night air hit me, cool and refreshing, and I took a deep breath.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt... happy. Not just the fleeting happiness you get when you find a five-dollar bill in your pocket, but a deep, bone-deep contentment. It was weird. And it was kind of awesome.

I started walking down the street, my steps light and bouncy. A group of well-dressed people passed by, and I resisted the urge to yell, "Hey, guess what? I'm rich now!" Instead, I just nodded at them, trying to look like I belonged in this world of high-end cafes and designer clothes.

As I strolled along, I couldn't help but marvel at how quickly life could change. This evening, I was a waiter getting dumped in a restaurant full of people. Now? I was a millionaire with a mysterious grandfather and a to-do list from a soap opera.

I chuckled to myself, earning a few strange looks from passersby. Let them stare. I was on top of the world.

The city looked different at night, especially through my new millionaire eyes. The lights seemed brighter, the air felt cleaner, and even the honking of car horns sounded almost musical. Was this how rich people experienced life all the time? If so, no wonder they always looked so smug.