Marcus is bright red with embarrassment, his jaw tight as he watches Professor Halloway leave the room. He can feel the whispers of the other students—people who usually worship him are now snickering at how he was scolded like a child. He needs to "reclaim" his status, and Kaelen is the easiest target.
As Kaelen stands up to leave, Marcus steps into the aisle, blocking his path. Elena stands behind him, looking uncomfortable but not moving to stop him.
"You think you're clever, don't you, Alexander?" Marcus spat, his voice low and venomous. "Hiding behind a professor because you can't stand up for yourself. You think that little 'win' means something?"
Kaelen slung his worn-out backpack over one shoulder. He looked Marcus dead in the eyes—eyes that had seen the bank balance of a titan just twelve hours ago. "I wasn't hiding, Marcus. I was studying. You should try it; your father's money won't pass the exam for you."
The surrounding students gasped. Kaelen had never talked back like this before.
Marcus's face contorted. He reached out to grab Kaelen's hoodie, but Kaelen moved with a sudden, sharp precision—a remnant of the "survival instincts" Silas had mentioned—and brushed Marcus's hand away before it could even touch him.
"Don't," Kaelen said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy tone that made even Marcus flinch. "I'm going to my next class. Get out of my way."
Marcus was stunned for a second, his hand hanging in mid-air. He looked at Elena, then back at Kaelen, his pride wounded. "Fine. Go. But check your phone, 'Scholar.' I just sent a message to the Dean's office. Let's see how much studying you do when your scholarship is 'reviewed' for behavioral issues."
Marcus walked away, laughing loudly to hide his shaking hands. Elena lingered for a second, looking at Kaelen with a flicker of something—regret? Fear?—before she turned and followed Marcus.
Kaelen walked out of the hall and pulled out his phone. He didn't check the school portal. Instead, he opened the encrypted line to Silas.
" Who handles the university's endowment funds?"
Silas: (Replying instantly) "The Aurelian Group provides 60% of their annual funding, Young Master.
"good"
The hallway was buzzing as Kaelen walked toward the administrative wing. Students were already whispering, the news of Marcus's "threat" spreading like wildfire. In their eyes, Kaelen was a dead man walking. To them, the Vance family's influence was absolute—a single phone call from Marcus's father could erase a student's entire future.
As Kaelen approached the heavy oak doors of the Dean's office, he saw Marcus leaning against the wall, smirking. Elena stood beside him, checking her reflection in her phone, though she looked slightly uneasy.
"Back so soon, Alexander?" Marcus taunted, pushing off the wall. "I told you. I don't just talk. I act. The Dean is waiting for you. Something about a 'review of conduct' and 'financial eligibility.' It's a shame—all that studying just to get kicked out on a Monday morning."
Kaelen didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. He walked straight past Marcus, his hand on the brass doorknob.
"You're making a mistake, Marcus," Kaelen said, his voice flat and devoid of fear.
"The only mistake here was you thinking you belonged in the same room as us," Marcus barked, following him into the outer office. "Go on! Let's see how brave you are when you're signing your withdrawal papers!"
Inside, Dean Sterling—a man who prided himself on his "impartiality" while quietly accepting donations from the Vance Group—looked up from his desk. He saw Marcus and Kaelen enter and cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses.
"Ah, Mr. Alexander. And Mr. Vance," the Dean said, his voice rehearsed. "I received a very concerning report regarding a disturbance in Professor Halloway's lecture. Given the university's standards, and your... precarious financial standing, Mr. Alexander, we have to consider if your scholarship is being put to good use."
Marcus crossed his arms, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "He's been a disruption all morning, Dean. Honestly, the school's reputation is at stake."
Kaelen stood in the center of the room, looking at the Dean. He felt the black card in his pocket. Just then, his phone vibrated once.
A text from Silas: "The call is connected. Enjoy the show, Young Master."
The Dean's desk phone let out a sharp, piercing ring.
"One moment," the Dean said, looking annoyed. He picked up the receiver. "I'm in the middle of a disciplinary hear—"
He stopped mid-sentence. His face went from a confident pink to a ghostly, translucent white. He stood up so fast his chair hit the back wall.
"Yes... yes, of course," the Dean stammered, his voice trembling. "I... I had no idea. The Aurelian Group? The Chairman himself? I... I understand perfectly. It will be handled immediately. No, please... don't withdraw the endowment. I'll fix it!"
The Dean hung up the phone with a shaking hand. He looked at Kaelen as if he were seeing a ghost. Then he looked at Marcus, his expression shifting from fear to sudden, sharp anger.
"Mr. Vance," the Dean snapped, his voice cracking. "Get out of my office."
Marcus's grin froze. "Wait, what? Dean, we were just talking about his scholarship—"
"I said OUT!" the Dean roared, slamming his hand on the desk. "Mr. Alexander is a model student. In fact, his scholarship has just been upgraded to a full Presidential Fellowship, effective immediately.
And as for you, Marcus... if I hear one more report of you harassing other students, I will personally see to it that the Vance family's naming rights are stripped from the library!"
The silence in the room was deafening. Marcus looked like he had been slapped. Elena backed away toward the door, her eyes wide with shock.
Kaelen turned to Marcus, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Like I said, Marcus. You're making a mistake."
Kaelen walked out of the office, leaving the richest bully on campus standing in stunned silence. He had kept his low profile, but he had sent a clear message: The "beggar" was gone. The King had arrived.
As Kaelen walked out of the Dean's office, the hallway fell into an eerie silence. Students who had been waiting to record his "walk of shame" stood frozen. Kaelen was actually smiling—a calm, effortless expression that didn't belong on the face of someone who had just been "expelled."
Moments later, Marcus stumbled out, his face a frantic shade of purple, his eyes darting around as if the walls were closing in. Elena followed, looking pale and confused. The hierarchy of the school had just shifted, and the witnesses couldn't believe their eyes.
Kaelen's phone vibrated—it was a direct call from Silas.
"The Board of Directors is convening for an emergency session at the main branch," Silas's voice was crisp. "Your presence isn't mandatory, but it would be wise to oversee the transition of the energy subsidiaries today. I've prepared a luxury ride—"
"No," Kaelen interrupted, stepping out into the brisk morning air. "Keep the low profile, Silas. I'll take a cab."
"As you wish. I shall be waiting on the 90th floor."
Kaelen walked to the edge of the campus and hailed a standard yellow taxi. The driver didn't look twice at the student in the faded hoodie. Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up to the Aurelian Plaza—a shimmering monolith of glass and steel that seemed to touch the clouds.
Kaelen stepped out and walked toward the main revolving doors. But before he could even reach the handle, a massive hand planted itself on his chest.
"Whoa, whoa. Hold it right there, kid," a security guard snapped. He looked at Kaelen's worn-out sneakers and the fraying hem of his backpack. "Deliveries are around the back. This entrance is for executives only."
"I'm not a delivery driver," Kaelen said calmly. "I'm here to see Silas."
The guard burst into a mocking laugh. "Did you hear that? This beggar wants to see the Chief of Staff! Hey, Chief! Come look at this!"
The Chief of Guards, a burly man with a scarred brow, swaggered over. He looked Kaelen up and down with pure disgust. "Listen, kid. You look like you haven't had a square meal in a week. If you're looking for a handout, go to the mission three blocks down. If you don't move in five seconds, I'm going to toss you into the street."
"I told you," Kaelen's voice went cold. "I have an appointment."
"Appointment?" the Chief sneered. "You don't even have an appointment with a barber. Get lost."
Among the guards, one younger man named Jude looked uneasy. Unlike the others, he stepped forward and offered a small, respectful nod. "Sir, if you truly have business here, I can check the guest log for you. I don't mind verifying."
"Jude, shut up!" the Chief barked. "Don't waste time on this trash."
Suddenly, the high-pitched click of designer heels echoed across the marble lobby. Isabella, the Executive Secretary, marched toward the commotion.
"What is this noise?" she demanded. "The Board members are arriving!"
"Secretary Isabella," the Chief said, bowing. "Just a stray student causing trouble. He claims he knows Silas."
Isabella turned her gaze toward Kaelen. Her eyes narrowed. "You again? You shouldn't be here. And don't ever refer to the Chief of Staff so casually. It is Mr. Silas to you. Do you understand the level of disrespect you are showing?"
Kaelen didn't flinch. He simply pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial. He put it on speaker.
"Silas," Kaelen said clearly. "Your security team is threatening to throw me out, and your secretary is lecturing me on respect."
There was a three-second silence on the line. Then, Silas's voice came through, sounding like a crack of thunder.
"Isabella? Put me on with the Chief of Guards. Now."
The Chief took the phone with a trembling hand. "Yes, Mr. Silas? We were just—"
"Listen to me very carefully," Silas's voice was like a razor. "The man standing in front of you is your boss. He is my boss. He is the owner of the ground you are standing on. If so much as a hair on his head is ruffled, you will not only be fired—you will be blacklisted from every firm on the planet. Isabella, escort him to my private lift immediately. If I hear one more word of 'disrespect,' you can pack your desk by noon."
The phone went dead.
The Chief of Guards went pale, his knees nearly buckling. Isabella's jaw dropped. She looked at Kaelen—the "orphan" in the hoodie—and realized she was looking at the man who held her entire career in his hands.
Officer Jude, the only one who had been kind, stood at attention and saluted.
Kaelen looked at Isabella. "The 90th floor, right? Lead the way."