Investing In My Three Crippled Wives Get 10,000x Times Return
Chapter 300 | The Bank
Chapter 300: 300 | The Bank
Dexter had already turned down the street when the first customer stopped in front of the bakery. Then a second arrived. Then three more.
By the time Mr. Henry raised the front shutter, a small crowd had gathered. Several faces were familiar from the festival. A man near the front immediately leaned forward. "Is it his food?"
Mr. Henry pointed at the labels. "Grade-One meals. Read before you buy."
"That’s fine."
"One portion first," Tessa added quickly when the man began reaching for several.
Behind him, someone complained. Another person called to a neighbor across the street. The news traveled from one doorway to another with remarkable speed. The young man from the festival was selling his meals.
Inside the bakery, Tessa stared at the growing line, then looked at her father. "One hundred might not be enough."
Mr. Henry was already moving the next container closer. "No," he said. "I don’t think it will."
Dexter, meanwhile, was almost home. He had no idea.
When he entered, Lyra was waiting near the kitchen. He stopped. "Have you been standing there the whole time?"
She shook her head. ’I sat down briefly.’
Dexter looked at her.
Mira looked up from her place by the window. "Youre back."
"Hm..."
Selene sat at the table with her hands folded around an empty cup. Dexter washed his hands and began serving breakfast. The Grade-Five meal released a rich fragrance as soon as he lifted the lid.
Lyra’s expression changed immediately. Mira tried to remain composed. Selene inhaled softly. Dexter noticed all three reactions and smiled. "Careful. It’s hot."
He placed Mira’s portion where she could reach comfortably, then served Selene and Lyra before sitting down himself. The first few bites were accompanied by complete silence. He considered that a success.
Warmth spread gradually through the room as the food’s mana began to settle inside them. Mira’s shoulders loosened.
Selene’s fingers no longer felt as cold when she adjusted her cup. Lyra looked at her bowl as though she had made a deeply personal discovery.
’You should cook this again.’
"I haven’t even finished this serving."
’I’m planning ahead.’
Dexter smiled. After breakfast, he prepared their tea.
Once the dishes were cleared, he returned to Mira’s spot with the small stool and folded towels. She looked at him. "You already helped me this morning."
"And now we’re doing your stretches."
"Alright."
He supported her leg beneath the knee and ankle, moving slowly through the familiar range. He watched her face as closely as he watched the limb. Mira watched his hands.
Outside, the neighborhood was becoming louder. Somewhere down the street, several people seemed to be arguing about breakfast. Dexter paid them little attention. He flexed her ankle gently, waited, then eased it back.
"Anything?"
"A little tight."
"Here?"
She nodded. He adjusted immediately.
The massage followed, warmer and lighter than the previous afternoon’s session.
Sunlight spread across the floor. Lyra settled on the sofa with her tea and the egg nearby. Selene began a quiet circulation of the seventh-tier technique, the new formation keeping her energy from disturbing the others.
Dexter glanced toward the clock. There was still the bank. The team meeting at two. A crowded day waited beyond the gate.
For the moment, however, Mira’s hand rested on his shoulder as he leaned forward to support her foot. Her fingers moved slightly. He looked up.
"What?"
"Nothing."
But she did not remove her hand. Dexter smiled and returned to the massage. After a while, she asked, "Will you be back before dinner?"
He glanced at her again. "I intend to be."
"Good."
"Any particular reason?"
Mira looked toward the window. "The others will be hungry."
From the sofa, Lyra immediately nodded. Selene smiled into her cup. Dexter lowered his head, hiding the expression on his face.
"Then I’d better make sure I come home."
...
Dexter finished Mira’s stretches before putting the massage oil away. "Don’t practice the merging technique while I’m gone," he reminded her.
Mira looked at him over the rim of her teacup. "You’ve said that three times."
"Yet, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met."
Mira rolled her eyes cutely.
"Go and attend your meeting."
"The meeting isn’t until two. I need to visit the bank first."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "What happened?"
"An account restriction. Apparently, they need me to verify some information in person."
"Which information?"
"That’s what I’m going to find out."
Mira continued looking at him, and Dexter smiled before she could ask anything else. "It should be straightforward."
"Just don’t return injured."
"I’ll try not to fight the cashier."
"You think you’re joking."
He laughed, but her expression remained serious. A moment later, her right hand caught his wrist. "Call if there’s a problem."
Dexter raised an eyebrow and looked down at her fingers. What would she do if he called?
But then, he nodded. "I will."
Lyra appeared beside him with a small food container, and he raised an eyebrow. "For me?"
She nodded. ’You forgot to pack something.’
"You’re giving me food?"
Her expression immediately became offended, and Dexter accepted the container before she could change her mind. "Thank you."
’Don’t give it or throw it away.’
"I wouldn’t dare."
Selene stood near the corridor, one hand resting lightly against the wall. "Be careful," she said, her voice quiet but following him all the way to the door. Dexter glanced back at the three of them.
"I’ll be home before dinner."
He checked the guardian puppet’s position once more, confirmed that both formations were functioning properly, and left.
As he settled into the driver’s seat, his phone vibrated with a message from Jasmine. She’d like to see him.
Dexter blinked his eyes and read it twice before replying. ’All right. When would you like to meet?’
Then he put the phone away and started the vehicle.
For now, he needed access to his money. Fifty million dollars was waiting behind a restriction notice, and he had a house to improve, cultivation resources to purchase, and three wives whose recovery would only become more expensive as they progressed.
He had no intention of leaving that amount frozen because someone needed another signature.
The bank was tall but its width not as large.
Its entrance is covered in polished glass. Two uniformed guards stood beside the doors while a discreet detection formation examined everyone who entered. Dexter passed through without difficulty.
Inside, rows of customers waited beneath screens displaying ticket numbers, and a few sat with drinks and packaged breakfasts from the adjoining refreshment counter. Others stood near the service desks, speaking in low voices.
Dexter approached the reception station.
A woman in a dark blazer looked up. "Good morning. How may we assist you?"
"My account has been restricted. The application told me to visit a branch."
"Do you have identification?"
He produced it. She scanned the card, checked the screen, and gave him a ticket. "Customer verification. Counter six."
"Thank you."
Dexter found a seat and waited. A man nearby complained about an international transfer, and across the room an elderly woman argued patiently with a clerk about a charge she insisted had already been reversed. For a little while, Dexter allowed himself to believe his would be ordinary too.
His number appeared on the screen seventeen minutes later, and he approached counter six. The banker seated behind it was a young woman with carefully arranged hair and a neat name badge. She smiled professionally as he sat down.
"Good morning, sir."
"Morning."
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