Godly Investor: A Hundred Trillion Dollars For Investment And Donations-Chapter 256 -

The moment Mr. Brown uttered those words, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Murmurs began to ripple through the York family. They exchanged wide-eyed glances, their expressions betraying a mixture of awe and disbelief. "Could it be?"

Serenity’s uncle whispered, his tone reverent.

"Mr. Brown actually have seen the godly investor and met him him?"

"Of course, he does!"

At that moment another family member chimed in, their voice brimming with newfound respect. "How else would he have such influence? Mr. Brown, you’ve been hiding so much from us!"

As if on cue, the room erupted with praise.

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"A man of mystery and power," someone said. "No wonder the investor trusts him." Another added, "Mr. Brown, you’ve truly elevated the York family by just association alone!"

Mr. Brown, though sweating internally, maintained his composure. He straightened his shoulders, casting a modest but confident smile.

"Well, I do value my discretion,"he said, attempting to sound both humble and authoritative.

"But yes, some relationships are built on mutual respect and trust."

hearing what they were saying.

Ethan sat quietly, observing the growing spectacle with a calm exterior. His fingers tapped lightly on the table, his mind racing with thoughts of how far this lie could spiral.

At that moment the manager, who had been standing silently and listening to what Mr Brown and the York were saying.

couldn’t take it anymore he finally stepped forward. His expression was stern, his tone cutting through the room like a blade.

"Enough of this charade," he said, glaring directly at Mr. Brown. "You’re lying."

Hearing the manager accusing Mr. brown the room fell silent, the praises halting as everyone turned to look at the manager. Mr. Brown’s confident facade faltered for a brief second, but he quickly recovered. "Excuse me?"

he said, his voice tinged with indignation. "Are you questioning my integrity?"

The manager folded his arms across his chest. "I am,"he said bluntly. "You claim to know the godly investor and to have dined with him here? That’s a bold statement. Fortunately, we keep meticulous records. How about you tell us the exact day you came in with this mysterious benefactor? Let’s see if your story checks out."

The challenge hung heavily in the air. Mr. Brown’s jaw tightened as his mind scrambled for an answer. He couldn’t possibly provide a date—it was all fabricated. Yet, the expectant gazes of the York family bore down on him, silently demanding an explanation.

Without being told he knows he had to say something convincing or fine a way to get out of the situation he had just found himself in.

"Surely you remember the day," the manager pressed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "After all, dining with the godly investor is no small occasion. Shouldn’t it be etched in your memory?"

At that moment Serenity’s uncle leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "Yes, Mr. Brown," he said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Tell us. When was this?"

The pressure was mounting, and beads of sweat began to form on Mr. Brown’s forehead.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

At that moment the York family, once full of admiration, now began exchanging skeptical glances.

They thought Mr Brown would have said something by now or at least clear the misunderstanding on ground.

Yet he has refused to say something.

Ethan, who had been quietly observing the chaos, finally leaned back in his chair with a faint smirk. He didn’t need to intervene—Mr. Brown was doing a fine job unraveling his own web of lies.

Mr. Brown’s face was pale, his hands trembling slightly as he searched for a way out of the situation.

The silence in the room was deafening, the York family waiting with bated breath for him to answer the manager’s challenge.

Finally, with a forced chuckle, he raised his hand as if to dismiss the tension in the room.

"Well," Mr. Brown began, his voice wavering at first but quickly steadying.

"If checking your records would expose the name of the identity of this individual, then I’d rather not. You see, their trust and privacy mean more to me than proving anything to anyone."

Upon hearing what Mr Brown just said, The family exchanged glances, nodding in admiration, they have heard how Secretive the Godly Investor could be, that must the the reason Mr Brown had refused comply knowing it’s going to expose the identity.

"Such loyalty!" Serenity’s uncle exclaimed. "That’s why Mr. Brown is trusted by the godly investor himself."

Mr. Brown smiled weakly, basking in the misplaced adoration while silently praying the conversation would end there. But the manager wasn’t letting up.

"Alright then,"the manager said with a raised eyebrow. "If you’re so concerned about their privacy, how about you cover the cost of the heavenly box instead? Surely, a man of your caliber can afford it."

For a split second, panic flashed across Mr. Brown’s face.

’Pay for the heavenly box?’

He thought to himself.

He hadn’t anticipated this turn. But he quickly masked his fear with a broad grin.

"Of course!" he said, straightening his posture.

†How much is it? I’ll pay for it right now."

Upon hearing what Mr Brown just said.

The York family clapped and praised him again. "Such generosity! Mr. Brown truly knows how to make an impression," Serenity’s uncle said, shaking his head in awe.

But inside, Mr. Brown was spiraling. "How much could the heavenly box cost? he thought to himself, his mind racing. forty thousand? Fifty thousand? More? I can’t back out now; they’d see through me. But the godly investor promised double salaries during the festival period. That’ll be enough to cover this, right?"

He said to himself and swallowed hard, forcing another smile. Yes, it’ll have to be. I’ll manage somehow. After all, they’re all eating on my name anyway.

The tension in the room was palpable as the manager’s calm yet commanding voice echoed, "Nope. It doesn’t work that way."

Hearing what the manager just said.

The York family and Mr. Brown froze, their eyes darting toward the door as two imposing security guards entered, carrying a sleek black folder. The manager took the file, flipping it open with deliberate slowness, his expression unreadable.