“Hey! Can’t you knock or something?!” Kyler’s voice rang out sharply, full of annoyance. “What the heck are you doing here?! You can’t just walk in like that! What’s wrong with you?!”Nelson froze at the doorway. His chest tightened, and his vision blurred. His eyes bounced between Rachael —half-dressed, shame written all over her— and Kyler, standing beside her with that smug, poisonous grin.He blinked, as though he might have been imagining things. But no, this was real.Rachel turned her face away, unable to meet Nelson’s eyes. Nelson’s voice was low and shaky. “Rachel… what’s going on?!”She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Guilt was all over her face, but it was clear she had made her choice. She was guilty, but not remorseful.Kyler gave a mocking laugh. “Ooooh, so you actually thought she was still yours? Bro, you’ve been dreaming. Big time. Now get out of here before I change my mind!”Nelson’s heart split down the middle. He stepped inside, his voice rising as if volume alone c

“I am not getting in that car,” Nelson snapped, his voice raw with suspicion. His fists tightened at his side. “Maybe you guys are just kidnappers. But let me save you the trouble —I have nothing to offer. I’m just a poor boy living with an old woman who I call my grandmother. She’s sick, and the only person I’ve got in this world. If you think I’m worth ransoming, you’re wasting your time.”The man in the navy blue suit —sharp-eyed, calm as stone— did not flinch. Instead, he slipped a hand into his coat and drew out a sleek black card and a silver-edged business card. Both glinted under the dim streetlights.“If you insist, Young Master…” the man’s voice was steady, respectful, almost rehearsed. He placed both cards into Nelson’s palm, pressing them down gently as though delivering something sacred. “Here’s my card. And this—” he tapped the black one “—contains thirty billion dollars. Thirty. Billion.”Nelson blinked. His breath caught. He almost laughed in disbelief, thinking it was

Nelson slid into his seat at the back of the room, dropping his bag onto the desk with a calmness that felt like a slap across Kyler’s face.That calm was worse than any insult. Worse than any fight. It was the calm of someone who no longer cared what Kyler thought. And that terrified Kyler more than he would ever admit.Soon, the lecturer slid into the class, and the first person to speak wasn’t Nelson—it was Kyler. He shot up from his chair like a coiled spring.“Sir,” Kyler barked, “I don’t really know how this guy even got into this college. How does he afford the fees? He’s a loser —a brokie! He could tarnish the name of this school. He shouldn’t even be here, not after what he did!”The class gasped. Heads turned. All eyes locked on Nelson.Mr. Smith adjusted his glasses and looked between the two boys. “That’s a heavy accusation, Kyler. Sit down.”But Kyler didn’t. He kept standing, fists clenched, jaw tight.“Mr. Cassius,” the lecturer finally turned, firing a few tough, rapi

As the car rolled on, Nelson felt his chest tighten like someone was piling bricks on him one by one. He tried to lean back, hoping the soft leather seat would ease him, but it didn’t. His head was pounding. He began to recall all the sadistic memories stored in his brain; kids laughing at his lunch-box when he was much younger, him being bullied for being an orphan, Rachel walking away and publicly breaking up with him like he was nothing. The whispers after that day in class when he had been made a fool. The cold stink of the cell he was locked in for a crime he did not commit, the silence that made him wonder if life had already ended for him.And now —this?A ride in a car that looked like it had rolled straight out of a dream he had no business having. The driver, with his clean suit and glassy eyes, had greeted him with “Welcome, young master,” and Nelson almost burst out laughing. Him? Young master? He’d been called worse —“orphan” was practically a title —but “master”? No, it