Don't Judge a Book By it's Cover

“Did you by any chance give someone such an amount you speak of, yesterday?” The bank manager asked, gazing at Sam curiously. 

Sam was rather confused by his question, why would he give someone a hundred million dollars, when he himself had just gotten the same amount of money the previous day? 

Seeing the confusion in Sam’s eyes, “Something like a gift to someone,” he clarified. 

Sam gave a negative nod, still looking lost. 

The manager seemed to have remembered something, the previous day, a wealthy man had gifted his grandson a hundred million dollars; so he thought maybe Sam was the man, that would have confirmed that he truly had such an amount in his bank. 

The little crowd in the bank had their attention and ears on the matter that was happening between Sam and the bankers, it was rather embarrassing for Sam; even now that he became totally rich overnight, he was still being ridiculed. 

When the manager saw that Sam wasn’t the person he had expected him to be, his face reverted into a sneer. 

“Let me have your card, Mr.?” 

“Samuel Jonathan,” Sam completed, struggling free from the securities that were trying to hold him down, a frown on his face.

He handed over the card to the bank manager and hoped all this would be sorted. He saw the money with his own eyes yesterday when it entered into his account. 

The manager took one glance at the card and threw it back at Sam, his face was starting to squeeze into an angry expression. 

“There’s no way you’d have a hundred million dollars in that card, Mr. Samuel, stop constituting a nuisance and embarrassing yourself; get out of here while you can.” The manager snapped, turning to walk back to his office, but Sam wasn’t done. 

“Why would you say that? I saw the money enter my account, I can show you on my phone,” Sam persisted, walking slowly to where the manager was, the securities were following him closely behind, ready to apprehend him if he made any silly move. 

“Only a golden card can hold over fifty million dollars, Mr. Sam, and what you have with you isn’t a golden card; it simply means you’re the fraud here,” 

“Now if you do not want me to tag you as one, kindly leave the bank premises,” the manager warned, giving Sam a chance to go freely. 

“Sir, he still has a loan of a thousand dollars he has to pay,” the clerk chipped in, reminding the manager of Sam’s debt. 

“Oh, I totally forgot about that, it seems you can’t go freely anymore Mr. Samuel, till you settle your debt,” the manager affirmed. 

“I wonder how someone who claims to have a hundred million dollars in his account owes the bank just a thousand dollars, that sounds like an insult. We are not fools here, Mr. Samuel,” the manager added, he was tired of this whole situation. 

Sam was completely beaten, he had no more words to defend himself, the manager was good at his game. He was a banker after all, and Sam wasn’t one. All he knew was that he saw the money enter into his account. 

There was no way he could tell them that he became rich overnight; even if he did, no one would believe it, because it took a while before he himself did.

Sam knew this was the end of the road for him, the money he had in his account before Mr. Clinton sent a hundred million dollars was just five hundred dollars, it wasn’t enough to settle his debt, but he could at least give him leverage. 

As he was about to speak, a middle-aged man walked into the bank and his voice interrupted Sam’s. 

“Who has the black Cadillac parked outside?” 

The whole room was quiet for a few seconds, Sam looked at the man closely; he was dressed like one of Clinton’s guards, but he wasn’t part of them, he wasn’t as huge and muscular as they were even if he didn’t remember their faces; their physique was enough. 

“I do, is there a problem?” Sam was the only person who spoke after the middle-aged man. 

The clerk was the first to let out a small giggle, before the few people at the bank also laughed lightly, some gazing at Sam scornfully. 

A man that was claiming to have a hundred million dollars that he doesn’t have would have a car? That was what the people thought, and not only that; Sam wasn’t dressed or looked like someone who was wealthy. 

The bank manager just shook his head, he couldn’t get why Sam was pretending to own things he didn’t have, but then he was shocked at what he saw next. 

Sam brought out his car key in frustration and showed the middle-aged man, “I own the Cadillac outside, whether you believe it or not,” 

Sam was starting to reach his limits of being humiliated, he waved the key for everyone who was doubting him to see. 

The clerk still didn’t believe it was his, he must have stolen it or borrowed it, but it didn’t stop the surprise that covered her face. 

However, the few people in the bank who had looked down on Sam because of the little issue that ensued between him and the bankers started having second thoughts. 

The man who had asked who owned the car had no idea what was going on in the bank. Although he was certain that something was wrong it was actually none of his business. 

“Sorry, but you’d have to move your car from that spot, an important guest is arriving soon, and we need that spot reserved for him,” the man said, with a simple smile on his face. 

“I’m calling the guest now, please make it snappy,” the man added and brought out a cell phone from his jacket. 

“I’ll be back,” Sam said, staring at the bank manager condescendingly. 

“One of my guards would go with you,” the manager replied, and immediately one of the security guards started walking behind Sam.

He didn’t trust Sam either and didn’t believe he was the one who owns the car. 

Sam frowned but allowed the security guard to follow behind him, he had no choice. 

The man who wanted the Cadillac moved, dialed the number of the honorable guest he was expecting and suddenly, Sam's phone ranged….