Ethan Storm’s Dark Awakening novel Chapter 31

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The suited man’s laughter rang out, sharp and mocking, drawing a few curious glances from the guards at the entrance. Still, none moved from their posts.

He sneered. “I said leave,” his voice low and scornful. “This place is for people with real money. Real status. Not riffraff in bargain boots.”

Ethan’s lips twitched. Not from amusement.

From fury.

The man had no idea who he was talking to. But worse-he thought he did.

He knew that today, a very important guest was set to arrive. A Supreme Card holder from the world most mysterious financial institution-Newman Bank. A client so elite that the bank had cleared the schedule and stationed extra security at the entrance. The suited man had spent the entire morning rehearsing how to greet such a man. He imagined a luxury car pulling up, assistants scrambling around with briefcases, the client stepping out in a tailored designer suit that screamed power and privilege. 1

Instead, Ethan had shown up.

By taxi.

Wearing what looked like thrift store clothes-his coat plain, his boots scuffed, his shirt slightly wrinkled.

There was no way this man was the Supreme client. No way.

The suited man’s disappointment turned to irritation. Then rage.

“Guards!” he snapped, jabbing a finger at Ethan. “Get him out of here. Now. He’s wasting my time.”

Two of the guards hesitated.

Ethan’s fists clenched. His voice, though tight with fury, remained controlled. “Tell your dogs to back off.

I’m here for business. Let me in.”

The suited man scoffed and stepped forward with exaggerated arrogance. “Business? You think someone dressed like that has business here? When the real VIP arrives, you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t have your head for breathing the same air.”

That did it.

He could’ve ignored the insult. He could’ve walked away and called the bank manager, demanded he

send someone out.

But no.

This man wanted a show? Fine.

Ethan reached slowly into his coat and pulled out a card. Matte black. Sleek. With a single silver summit

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embossed in the center. No name. No numbers.

Just power.

He held it up, steady and calm. 1

“I’m the client,” Ethan said. “Let me in. Now.”

The suited man blinked, then squinted at the card as if it were some cheap trick. “What is that? A library card?”

Ethan didn’t respond.

He simply held it out-unshaken.

The man’s smirk deepened. With a dramatic motion, he snatched the card from Ethan’s fingers-and then flung it disdainfully.

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