Novels by Blessed Pen

The Chancellor’s gaze settled fully on Kendrick.“Please,” he said, his tone controlled but firm, “explain this gift to us.”Every eye in the hall snapped toward Kendrick.The silence that followed was heavy—expectant, dangerous, suffocating. It pressed against his chest like a weight. Whispers hovered at the edges, waiting to explode.Kendrick stood there, hands loosely at his sides, suddenly uncertain.The truth was painfully simple.He didn’t know what the gift truly was.He had never opened it. Never examined it. Never asked questions. All he had done was make a call and give one instruction.Prepare something befitting.That was it.Adrian hadn’t explained. Kendrick hadn’t asked. He trusted Adrian to do the right thing—because so far, Adrian always had.He swallowed.“Erm… Sir…” Kendrick began honestly. “I only asked for a gift worthy of you. You deserve so much more than anything I could personally choose.”His voice faltered slightly despite his effort to stay composed.For hal

The room held its breath.Then voices erupted all at once, crashing into each other like waves.“Yes! Miss Doris should do it immediately!”“Let her check it now!”“They’re going to jail anyway!”“This will end the nonsense!”Confidence filled the hall. Smirks spread across faces. Most people were already convinced of the outcome before the process even began. In their minds, it was settled—Kendrick was a fraud, and tonight was his public execution.Miss Doris slowly stood.She was in her mid-thirties, poised and elegant, her movements refined with the kind of composure that came from years of dealing with the ultra-wealthy. She wasn’t dazzled by money, nor impressed by noise. As a certified authenticator of luxury items, antiques, rare diamonds, and precious metals, she was often flown across continents by billionaires to verify their possessions. Kings trusted her judgment. Titans waited on her words.She adjusted her glasses, stepped forward, and slipped on a pair of white gloves.

Chapter 8For several seconds, no one breathed.Clinton’s face twitched—just a fraction—before he threw his head back and laughed loudly. The sound rang too sharp, too forced, echoing unnaturally through the grand hall.“Secret?” he scoffed, spreading his arms wide as though presenting himself to the crowd. “I don’t have any secret. The only thing people should know about me is this—” He paused for effect. “I’m officially the richest guy on this campus.”Laughter followed instantly, encouraged by Paul, who clapped exaggeratedly into the microphone like a trained seal performing on cue.“You heard him!” Paul boomed. “Rich, powerful, untouchable!”The crowd fed off it. Applause swelled. Cheers bounced off crystal chandeliers.Kendrick didn’t move.He remained standing, hands relaxed at his sides, gaze locked steadily on Clinton. There was no anger in his eyes. No excitement. Just calm—so unnervingly calm it stood out like silence in the middle of a storm.“By the time I say it,” Kendric

Kendrick met Zara and Jayson at the campus gate just as the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the pavement. The usual bustle of Prestige International University moved around them—luxury cars pulling in and out, students laughing, voices carrying—but Zara barely noticed any of it. She paced back and forth, arms crossed tightly, anxiety written plainly across her face. Jayson stood beside her, calmer on the surface, but his constant glances at his watch betrayed his worry.The moment Kendrick stepped out of the taxi, both of them turned sharply.“Where have you been?” Zara asked immediately, relief and frustration tangling in her voice. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”Kendrick didn’t answer right away.Instead, he calmly reached into one of the shopping bags he carried and gently handed her a familiar orange box tied neatly with a white ribbon.“Open it.”Zara frowned, confusion flashing across her face. “Kendrick, this isn’t the time—”“Open it,” he repe

Kendrick had barely taken three steps out of La Lumière when the glass doors slid open behind him again.The salesgirls followed closely, each holding his shopping bags with both hands, their grips careful and reverent, as though they were carrying crown jewels rather than merchandise. They walked a respectful distance behind him, heads slightly bowed, faces tight with professionalism and awe.Heads turned immediately.Conversations paused.Phones subtly lifted.Whispers rippled across the sidewalk like a quiet wave.Anyone who truly understood luxury would have known why.One of the orange boxes, tied neatly with a white ribbon, cradled a Hermès Birkin Himalaya—a bag so rare it was usually reserved for private clients only. Its crocodile leather shimmered faintly under the sunlight, its value hovering around six hundred and eighty thousand dollars. Another assistant carried a black velvet case containing a platinum Rolex Daytona, its icy blue dial unmistakable, its market value exce

Clinton and his father stepped into Mr. Desmond’s sleek, glass-walled office with confident strides, their shoulders squared, their chins raised. The room itself screamed wealth—polished marble floors, minimalist furniture crafted from rare wood, and a panoramic view of the city stretching endlessly beyond the windows.This meeting was supposed to be simple.Routine.A discussion about business.One that would elevate the Voss family from a respectable half-a-billion-dollar net worth to crossing the sacred billion-dollar threshold.Clinton glanced at his father and smiled.His father smiled back.They both understood what this opportunity meant.To Clinton, it meant everything.More money meant more dominance on campus. More influence. More fear. He would officially become the richest student in school. Professors would tolerate him more. Students would worship him. Girls—every single one of them—would line up, desperate to be seen on his arm. Anyone who once mocked or ignored him wou