Chapter 10 The Sterling Name

The boutique had gone completely silent. The owner of the boutique stood frozen before Ethan, his posture was rigid, making customers and staff freeze. 

Damien, however, was still riding the wave of his own ego. He let out a nervous, short laugh, glancing between the terrified owner and Ethan.

The owner remained bowed before Ethan.

"There’s been a massive misunderstanding," Damien declared, his voice regaining its authority. "This is a joke, right? I know exactly who this is. He’s a construction worker. He was arrested yesterday for corporate espionage. He’s nothing but a common criminal."

Kim stepped forward, eager to join the fray. "He’s right. We saw the police arrest him. You can check the news."

The boutique manager, desperate to save his own skin, chimed in, "Sir, this man attempted to use a card that…we have every reason to believe is a stolen, counterfeit item."

The owner reached out, steadying his hands despite the tension in the room, and gestured for the card. Damien, beaming with the certainty of a man about to win a bet, plucked the matte black card from where he kept it and practically shoved it into the owner’s hand. 

"Expose him," Damien urged. "And then call the police. My father will want to hear how your security handled this."

The owner finally turned to Damien, almost losing his patience. "Accusing a patron of theft without a shred of proof is not just pathetic, Mr. Cross, it is defamation."

Damien laughed, crossing his arms. "Then verify it. Run the card. If it works... I’ll apologize. But when it fails, I want him thrown into the street."

He was entirely convinced. No one like Ethan had access to a centurion card. The owner, with a curt nod, stepped to the terminal. He slid the black card into the slot. The boutique fell into a deafening silence. Even the shoppers, with their phones held ready to record the embarrassment.

Processing...

The screen flickered.

Processing...

The terminal let out a quick, clean chime, then, a bold message appeared on the screen, 

AUTHORIZED

There was no balance limit. Just the absolute, unyielding proof of infinite credit.

The owner slowly removed the card. He didn't just hand it back; he held it with both hands, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of genuine, fearful respect.

The silence that followed was absolute. Someone dropped a hanger. The sound echoed through the store like a gunshot.

"That…" He pointed. "That doesn't mean anything. A fake card can pass a basic test. It's the second verification…"

"There is no second verification, Mr. Cross." The owner turned to face him. "I used the bank's private channel. That card is the most valid payment instrument in this store's history."

Damien's face went pale. "But…”

The owner turned slowly toward the sales associate who had first insulted Ethan.

"Did you refuse service to this gentleman?"

The associate stammered, her face turning a pale shade of grey. "Y-yes... because he... he looked like…"

SLAP.

The sound of the strike sounded like a whip.

"I asked a question," the owner said, his voice dangerously low. He turned his gaze to the manager. "And you? You approved this?"

The manager stammered, pointing a shaking finger at Damien. "Mr. Cross identified him as a criminal! We were protecting the brand!"

"So," the owner replied, his tone chillingly calm, "your company policy is to humiliate guests before verifying their payment? You judge a man by his shoes rather than his credit?"

The manager went silent, her mouth hanging open as she realized her mistakes. 

He slowly looked up at Ethan and smiled nervously. "I am deeply, profoundly sorry, Sir." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Sir. I cannot express how deeply we regret everything that has happened here….this appalling treatment."

“Sir?

"Mr. Cross." The owner stepped closer. "Do you understand what you've done here today? Do you understand who you've been insulting?"

Damien laughed nervously. It was a broken hollow sound now. "Yes… This is insane. You can't be scared of this loser."

"This gentleman," the owner interrupted, gesturing at Ethan, "is the grandson of Victor Sterling. Chairman of Sterling Global. The wealthiest man in America. The man who owns Manhattan. The man who…"

"I know who Victor Sterling is!" Damien's voice snapped. "Everyone knows who Victor Sterling is! But he's not…" He pointed at Ethan. "Look at him! Look at his clothes! He's wearing a prison jumpsuit!"

Ethan looked down at the orange torn dirty fabric he was wearing.

He'd never felt so exposed.

Damien’s face contorted, clutched his chest, gasping theatrically. He let out a laugh that sounded more like a choked sob. "Wait wait wait. Sterling? You expect me to believe that? The Sterling family?" He pointed at Ethan with a shaking finger. "This kid? Yesterday he was begging me for money! He was picking coins out of a bowl of soy sauce! He couldn't even pay his mother's hospital bills!"

The owner straightened slowly. His expression remained cold.

"Yes, Mr. Cross. I did."

Damien shook his head, still laughing. "Oh, this is good. This is really good. You almost had me for a second." He gestured at Ethan. "Do you really know who this guy is? He's a construction worker, he cleans floors and picks up trash."

The owner said nothing.

Damien paced, his eyes were wide. "Victor Sterling has been looking for his grandson for thirty years. If they had found him, it would be on every news channel in America! So, either you’re lying…" he pointed at the owner…"or you’ve lost your mind."

The owner didn't answer him. He looked at Damien with pity.

"The Sterling family hasn't made an announcement," the owner replied coldly. "So, why would you expect to see it on the news? And now…" Damien gestured wildly. “…now you're bowing to him? Calling him Sterling? This has to be some kind of joke."

"I assure you, Mr. Cross, this is no joke."

Kim stepped forward, with her arm linked through Damien's. "Honestly, this is ridiculous. We've been coming here for years. We're VIP clients. And you're treating us like criminals while defending a…a…" She gestured at Ethan's dirty jumpsuit. “…him?"

The owner's gaze shifted flatly to her. 

"Madam, I would advise you to be very careful about what you say next."