Beloved Husband of a Billionaire

Victor sipped the cold amber liquid. He liked how a thing so cold could become warm as it flowed down through his neck. It settled in nicely in his stomach.

“They started to move. We all know their weaknesses. Shouldn’t we start hunting?” Victor spoke. Gone was the goofy persona only to be replaced with a sinister look.

            The room became quiet. Neither man talked. Henry looked through the window. Smoke came out from his nose blurring his reflection on the glass pane.

            “It’s time.” The time was ripe. He was ready.

            Miguel held a deposit slip in his hand. Written on it was 10,000 sterling. It would be used for the additional costs of hospitalization after his father’s surgery.  

            At first, he actually tried send a bigger amount but he was questioned by the bank. It was suspicious they said because of was a foreigner and his source of income did not match with the amount he earned each month. He was honest when he told them his reasons but they seemed doubtful about it.

He posted his experience on a sns group and asked if they experienced a similar thing. One of the comments said he should stop transacting with that bank because it was notorious for such actions especially on migrant workers. Another commenter shared the same view; that the bank employees do not give mulattos the same respect they give to a citizen of U country. 

Miguel stopped transacting with that bank and chose a different one.

As a precaution so that he would not be accused of any crime, he had to lower the amount of each transaction and make staggered remittances instead.

He planned to use the money given by Mr. Kingsley to gradually pay his loans from other people and from the bank. That way all of his debts would be cleared. It was a shameful thing to do, to use someone else’s money, and he was not proud of it. But he had to do so.   

            He believed that it was much better to owe one than owe 10 other entities. The amount may be big but at least there was only one person that would chase after him. He could not outrun ten people and two banks but handling one person would be easier. Not he had plans of running away of course. He was still going to pay Mr. Kingsley back.

Miguel looked at his number and attentively watched the LED screen. There were only a few people in the bank. His queue number was close. He checked the time. No wonder there are only a few clients. It was near the closing time.

            As Miguel sat and waited for his number to be called, he felt eyes on him. It was cold and unnerving. He felt a foreboding in his body. He discretely tried to look around and find the source but just as it came it quickly vanished.

            The security guards stood attentively behind the door, opening and closing it for the clients. A voluptuous lady wearing a red dress with low neckline just entered the bank and moved to the queuing machine. An old man sat in front of the counter as the bank lady assisted him with filling up the forms. Two tellers were busy making separate transactions for a man in a chef uniform and a pregnant woman carrying an 8^th month baby. Behind the counter was a door that lead to the back office. A security stood in front of the door.

A man with a mustache sat far from Miguel’s left. He held a briefcase on his lap. A guy with orange hair bobbed his head as he listened in his headphones. A blind guy with black sunglasses held on to his walking cane as he waited to be called.

            The door behind the teller was opened and a rotund man in a business suit came out followed by three men wearing a black business attire. The most eye-catching was the person in the middle.

His posture was straight. His legs seemed toned and his arms were well proportioned. He stood tall and strong. He shook the manager’s hand in a firm hand grip while flashing a smile.

He looked quite handsome. His brown hair was swept back in a neat style. His lips were thin and he had an aquiline nose. The man’s eyes were a striking blue and they… winked at him.

            Miguel suddenly realized that was caught staring. O m o.  

            The man was now staring down at him while he talked to the manager.  

            Miguel quickly looked at the floor in shame. His ears felt hot. He closed his eyes and pretended to ignore the man in front of him. He stood up from his seat when his number was called and quickly walked to the counter.

            But the next moment gunshots were fired inside the bank. And there were screams everywhere.

Gunshots were exchanged. The two security guards near the front door died on the spot. The tellers dropped behind the counter and one of them pressed a button. The security personnel guarding the door behind the counter was shot in the head.

“Get down now!” The man in chef uniform shouted.

“Everybody on the ground now! Now!” A robbery was declared by the man with a mustache. The brief case on his hand was now replaced by a gun.

The pregnant lady screamed as she was held at gun point by the man in a chef uniform.

The fear became palpable. Everybody held their breath as they were frozen in the spot.

The guy with an orange hair slowly removed his headphones and knelt on the floor while the old man clutched his chest in pain. The rotund manager was sweating bullets as he sat on the floor. The dead eyes their security guard stared back at him. The blood that was oozing from the middle of the dead man’s head made him gag. The other bodyguard of his client was wounded in the shoulder.

            “Bring out all your valuables!” The man with sunglasses shouted. He pointed the gun at the voluptuous lady wearing a red dress who shrieked.

“Shut up! Shut up!” He pushed the gun to the woman’s head.

The man with the mustache moved around the bank as he waved his gun. He ordered everyone to move to the center. “Move or else we shoot this pregnant woman’s belly!”

The people moved quickly to the center. The rotund manager actually felt thankful because the dead eyes of the security guard was no longer staring at him.

            The man wearing a chef uniform pushed the pregnant lady down. Luckily the guy the orange hair caught her midfall. The woman was assisted to seat  on the floor shaking and crying. The female teller that assisted the old man moved close to try and calm her down.

            “Don’t move!” The man wearing sunglasses pointed the gun at them.

            The teller was frozen in her place.

The man wearing a chef uniform went behind the counter and started filling up bags as he looked around. He winked at the man with a mustache.

            The man with a mustache gave a signal to the man with sunglasses who watched the hostages before he walked towards the door behind the counter.