The night streets were quiet and empty. Mason drove the RS6, Sophia sat in the passenger seat, and neither of them spoke.
But the silence wasn't awkward. It was soft, intimate, full of unspoken understanding.
At a red light, Mason glanced at her.
Sophia was looking out the window, but her face was still flushed, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned as if remembering something happy. Sensing his gaze, she turned. Their eyes met.
She froze, then quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the view outside. But her crimson cheeks and slightly trembling lashes betrayed her shyness.
Mason couldn't help a soft chuckle.
"What's so funny?" she asked, her voice gentle, holding no real reproach.
"Nothing," he said, still smiling.
Sophia gave a soft "hmph" but didn't press further.
The car stopped in front of Sophia's apartment building. She unbuckled her seatbelt but didn't get out immediately.
They sat in the car, neither moving.
"Mason," she began softly.
"Yeah?"
"Today… I was really happy."
Mason turned to look at her. Her eyes shone in the dim cabin light, bright as stars.
"Me too," he said.
Sophia looked at him, then slowly reached out and took his hand.
"In the future… can we still be like this?" she asked, her voice quiet, carrying a hint of uncertainty.
Mason squeezed her hand in return.
"Of course."
Sophia seemed to remember something. She took a sleek black wallet from her bag and handed it to Mason.
The wallet was exquisite—made of fine, deep black calfskin, edges hand-stitched, with no visible logo. Mason glanced at her, then opened it.
Inside lay a black card.
Not an ordinary black—a deep, almost light-absorbing shade. The front of the card bore no numbers, only the cardholder's name: Mason Cooper, and a line of text in gold: PIERCE PRIVATE · WORLD ELITE. In the lower right corner was a holographic emblem that refracted light differently as the angle changed.
Mason looked up at Sophia.
"This is…"
"Thirty million dollars," Sophia said calmly, though a trace of nervousness flickered in her eyes. "A token of gratitude from the Rockefeller family. For saving my uncle."
Mason looked at the card in his hand, silent.
Sophia continued, "My grandfather arranged it through Pierce Bank. They've been our family's private bank for sixty years. This is one of the highest-tier, no-preset-limit credit cards globally. No PIN, no daily spending limit, no transaction restrictions. You can use it to buy anything—cars, property, yachts, even planes—as long as the funds are in the account."
Mason turned the card over. The back had a magnetic stripe and a signature strip—already signed in his name. The handwriting was neat, but clearly not his own.
"They signed for you," Sophia explained. "The people at Pierce said that way it's ready to use immediately."
Mason nodded, placing the card back in the wallet.
He looked at Sophia, silent for a few seconds.
"Your grandfather's idea, or your father's?" he asked.
Sophia paused, then gave a small smile.
"Both," she said. "My grandfather said a debt for saving a life can't be repaid with just thanks. My father said the Rockefellers never leave favors unpaid. This is what we owe."
Mason nodded.
He didn't refuse. He didn't say things like "No need," "It's too much," or "I was just doing what anyone would do."
He simply looked at the card, then back at Sophia.
"Okay. I accept it."
Sophia's eyes widened slightly, seemingly surprised by his straightforward acceptance.
"You… you're not going to refuse?" she asked, a note of astonishment in her voice.
Mason looked at her, a faint smile touching his lips.
"Why should I refuse?"
Sophia was speechless.
Mason picked up the black wallet, weighing it in his hand.
"Thirty million dollars," he said, his tone as calm as if stating a simple number. "To the Rockefellers, that's a drop in the ocean. For me, it's a chance to change my life."
He met Sophia's gaze.
"Your grandfather is right. A debt for a life can't be settled with just words. I saved him, he gives me money. It's a fair transaction. I don't see any reason to refuse."
Sophia looked at him, her expression complex.
She had been raised to be modest, to know how to politely decline, to feign indifference toward money. She'd seen too many people grovel before the Rockefeller name, and just as many pretend lofty disdain with a "No, thank you," only to covet the wealth greedily in secret.
But Mason was different.
He accepted it openly, without any false humility, without any performative pride. He simply, calmly, and matter-of-factly accepted this fortune that could change his life.
This straightforwardness, ironically, made him feel… real to her.
"Aren't you afraid people will call you greedy?" she asked.
Mason laughed.
"I am poor," he said. "It's only natural for the poor to want wealth. Besides, I didn't steal this. I didn't rob anyone. I didn't con anyone. The Rockefeller family chose to give it to me. Why should I fear what people say?"
Sophia looked at him, and suddenly smiled.
That smile held relief, appreciation, and a sense of… reassurance.
"I like that about you," she said, her voice soft but serious. "You're real. Not putting on an act."
Mason squeezed her hand again gently.
"Thank you."
They looked at each other, sharing a few seconds of quiet.
Mason nodded.
"Also, this." Sophia pulled a small, elegant checkbook from her bag and slid it toward him. "A checkbook. In the U.S., there are still occasions that require checks—like when buying a house."
Mason flipped it open. His name was embossed on the cover: Mason Cooper. Below, in smaller type: Pierce Private Bank · World Elite Checking.
He remembered his days working at the convenience store, seeing people pay rent with checks. Back then, he thought only people with stable jobs and bank accounts could use checks. He never imagined he'd have one himself someday.
"Thank you," he said.
"Don't thank me," Sophia said, looking at him. "You earned it."
Mason stood by the car, watching the door close behind her, not moving for a long time.
A night breeze blew past, bringing a hint of chill. He looked up at the stars in the night sky, a slow smile spreading across his face.
He suddenly felt the stars were unusually bright tonight.
Behind the door, Sophia leaned against it, her heart struggling to calm. She looked down at the slender, capable hand that had sought to bring him pleasure just hours before, and felt her own heartbeat quicken once more.