Robert stood at the entrance of the faculty leisure lounge, adjusting the strap of his worn backpack as though it could somehow make him look less out of place. The building itself screamed wealth—polished marble floors, imported furniture, soft jazz humming through concealed speakers. It was a space meant for men of status, power, and money.Not for someone like him.Still, he stepped in.Professor Chinney sat at the center of the gathering, a thick cigar between his fingers, laughter booming as he entertained three other professors. They were all men well past their forties, each one a titan in his own right—billionaires, business moguls, and academic elites whose influence stretched far beyond the school.The moment Robert entered, the laughter dipped—then resumed, louder than before.“Well, if it isn’t our favorite fallen angel,” Professor Chinney drawled, eyes scanning Robert from head to toe with unconcealed disdain. “The student who fell from grace himself.”The others chuckled

In less than five minutes, the ultra-modern Graham helicopter tore through the skies like a silver comet and descended toward the most renowned city in the country—the Graham Oasis.Calling it a city was an understatement.The Graham Oasis was a living monument to wealth, power, and human imagination pushed beyond its limits. It was beauty and brutality intertwined, creativity molded into steel and glass, futuristic technology breathing alongside ancient authority. The Emmett residence—grand as it was—couldn’t even qualify as an outskirt villa here.Spanning over 5,000 hectares of land and water, the Oasis functioned as a sovereign world of its own. Floating highways glided over artificial seas. Towering crystal spires pulsed with soft blue energy. Gardens engineered to bloom year-round stretched endlessly, each flower genetically perfected. Autonomous transports moved silently, while security drones patrolled invisibly, scanning everything that breathed.At the heart of it all stood

The Bertha Graham Memorial Hotel wasn’t just a building. It was a legend carved into the sky.Rising like a crown of glass and gold over the city, the BGMH stood as the world’s first and only twelve-star hotel—a place so exclusive that even billionaires had to beg for a reservation. Every inch of it had been built in memory of Bertha Graham, Robert’s biological mother, who had passed away five years before his exile. Abram Graham had poured his grief into this masterpiece: a tourist attraction, a status symbol, and a fortress of luxury all in one. The hotel didn’t just earn money—it generated over $200 billion a year. And the rule was ironclad: no one whose net worth fell below one billion dollars was allowed past the front gates. Everyone knew it. It was the kind of fact people whispered like gospel.So when the taxi pulled up to the sweeping marble entrance, Anna’s jaw dropped.She stared up at the towering structure—fountains that sprayed water in perfect synchronized patterns, cr

The private elevator ride back up to the penthouse felt longer than it should have. Robert stepped out first, the soft chime announcing his arrival like a quiet promise. Anna was already awake, bouncing between the suite’s endless toys—the massive home theater, the zero-gravity massage chairs, the private indoor waterfall that changed colors with a voice command. She spun around when she heard the doors, eyes bright.“Robert! Where’ve you been? I woke up and you were gone. I’ve been exploring everything. Did you know the bathtub has a built-in star projector? I felt like I was floating in space!”Robert smiled—small, real, the kind he hadn’t used in years. “I had a quick meeting downstairs. Everything okay?”“More than okay!” She threw her arms wide. “This place is insane. I still can’t believe it.”“Good. Now get ready. We’re going somewhere special.”Anna tilted her head. “Where?”“You’ll see when we get there.”She didn’t argue. She disappeared into the walk-in closet bigger than t

Steve’s words hung in the air like a death sentence.Prof. Darby stared at the director, mouth open, disbelief carved into every line of his face. “You’re… you’re actually denying me the vote? Because of him?”Steve’s voice was calm, almost bored. “Out of my office, Darby. Now.”Anna crossed her arms, a wicked little grin spreading across her face. “Wait. He can stay… if he goes down on his knees, apologizes to us properly, and then crawls out begging us to change our minds.”Prof. Darby’s face turned purple. “I would rather die.”He snatched his phone from the table, turned on his heel, and marched toward the door. At the threshold he paused, spun back, and jabbed a finger at them.“This isn’t over. You—” he glared at Robert “—I’ll make your life hell in this school. Every single day. And you—” he looked at Steve “—the Graham heir is coming to the Emmett event tonight. I’ll meet him there. I’ll get my vote. And I’ll make sure you lose this job before the week is out.”Anna’s grin fal