All Chapters of The Hidden King Of Northwood University : Chapter 11
- Chapter 20
78 chapters
11: The Gauntlet of the Elite
The double doors of the boardroom clicked shut behind Leo, but the silence didn't last. The hallway was already a hive of activity. Word at Northwood University didn't just travel; it mutated. By the time Leo’s sneakers hit the floor of the main corridor, the "janitor’s" expulsion wasn't just a rumor...it was the entertainment of the hour.Leo kept his gaze fixed on the heavy bronze handles of the building’s exit. He could feel the heat of a hundred stares. Students who had never looked him in the eye while he was mopping their spilled lattes were now leaning over the ornate balcony railings, their faces twisted into smirks."Hey, Leo! I dropped a twenty in the urinal! You got time for one last dive before you head back to the trailer park?"The voice belonged to a guy in a gold-trimmed varsity jacket. He was surrounded by a circle of girls who erupted into high-pitched, jagged laughter.Leo didn't break his stride. He kept his hands deep in his hoodie pockets, his fingers were brushi
12: The Price of a Soul
"You still don’t get it, do you, Elena?"Sarah’s voice was as thin and sharp as a razor blade, slicing through the fading echoes of the crowd’s laughter. She stepped forward, the heavy, expensive heels of her designer boots were clicking against the stone tiles of the Northwood quad with a rhythmic arrogance. She stopped just inches away from where Leo’s dropped sandwich still lay in the dirt, a messy, ugly streak of mustard staining the ground like a fresh scar.Elena didn't look up. She was still staring at the towering iron gates where Leo had just vanished into the gathering city fog. Her shoulders were trembling under her thin cardigan, and her breath was coming in short, jagged hitches that hurt her chest. The air smelled like damp concrete and the mocking perfume of a hundred rich kids who had just watched a man’s life get dismantled for sport."Get what, Sarah?" Elena whispered. Her voice was small, a fragile thing in the middle of the vast, cold campus."That you’re making a
13: The Shadow King
Leo kept walking. He didn't look at the expensive cars speeding past him toward the university entrance. He didn't look at the students who were likely already posting videos of his expulsion to their Instagram stories. His shoes were soaked, the cheap canvas material heavy with rainwater and the grime of the Northwood gutters.Two blocks away from the campus gates, the noise of the cheering crowd finally died out. He turned into a narrow side street, a place where the brick buildings were old and the security cameras were broken.A black town car was idling by the curb. Its engine gave off a low, steady rumble that shook the wet pavement. As Leo approached, the back door opened automatically. He stepped inside, and the world of the "scholarship janitor" vanished instantly.The interior of the car was a different universe. It smelled like rich leather, cedarwood, and clean air. Sebastian was behind the wheel, his eyes meeting Leo’s in the rearview mirror. He didn't say a word at first
14: The Declined Queen
Sarah leaned back in the velvet chair of the Maison de Mode boutique, a flute of expensive champagne in her hand. Outside, the news of Arthur Miller’s arrest was already scrolling across every digital billboard in the city, but inside this sanctuary of gold and marble, Sarah felt safe. She had a point to prove. If she could still spend like a Miller, then she was still a Miller."I’ll take the silk gown in the window," Sarah said, not even looking at the price tag. "And the matching heels. Size six."Three of her friends, girls who had spent the morning whispering about the "janitor scandal" at Northwood, sat around her. They were watching her every move. They were vultures, waiting to see if Sarah was going down with the ship."Sarah, are you sure?" one of them, a girl named Chloe, asked with a fake smile. "I mean, with Brad’s father in... well, you know... maybe we should be laying low?"Sarah let out a sharp, mocking laugh. She adjusted her hair, her eyes bright with a desperate ki
15: The Invisible Noose
Brad Miller slammed his fist against the bulletproof glass of the teller window at Northwood Private Bank. The sound was a flat, ugly thud that didn’t match the fury vibrating in his chest. Behind the glass, the teller didn’t jump. She didn’t even look up from her screen. She just kept typing, her face as cold as the marble floors of the lobby."I said check it again!" Brad roared. His voice bounced off the high ceilings, drawing the stares of several wealthy clients sitting in the velvet lounge chairs nearby. He didn't care. His world was falling apart in real-time. "That account has a fifty-million-dollar liquidity cap. It’s for emergencies! My father is sitting in a holding cell right now because of some fake accounting scandal, and I need his bail money!"A man in a sharp, navy blue suit stepped out from a side office. It was Mr. Henderson, the bank manager who had spent the last three years laughing at Brad’s jokes and sending his family bottles of vintage wine every Christmas. T
16: The Audit
"Pick up the phone, Brad. For the love of god, pick up the phone!"Dean Arthur Sterling slammed his hand onto his mahogany desk, the vibration rattling a crystal glass of water that had been sitting untouched for hours. He was alone in his office, but he was sweating like a man in a police interrogation room. He adjusted his silk tie, which felt more like a noose with every passing second. On his iPad, the financial news ticker was a sea of red. The Miller Group’s stock wasn't just dipping; it was in a freefall so violent it looked like a suicide jump."Pick up..." he whispered again, his voice cracking. He hit the redial button for the thirty-fifth time.The number you have dialed is no longer in service.The Dean slumped back into his leather chair, the air escaping his lungs in a ragged wheeze. Just twenty-four hours ago, he was a kingmaker. He was the man who turned billionaire donations into campus monuments. Now, he was a man holding a bag of air. If the Millers were broke, the
17: The Anonymous Miracle
Elena Vance didn't see the hospital as a place of healing. To her, it was a machine that chewed through people and spat out bills. She sat on a plastic chair that had seen better decades, her back aching from twenty-four hours of sitting in the same spot. The air in the public ward was thick with the scent of cheap lemon cleaner and that specific, heavy smell of people waiting for bad news.In her lap, she held a piece of paper that felt heavier than a lead brick.$42,000.The numbers danced in front of her eyes. Her mother was finally stable after the surgery, her breathing steady under the thin hospital sheets, but Elena felt like she was the one drowning. The insurance company had called it a "clerical error." Her father, who had passed away three years ago, couldn't exactly argue the point from the cemetery.Elena’s fingers dug into the paper, wrinkling the edges. She was twenty years old, a top student at Northwood, and she was currently worth less than a used car."Ms. Vance?"E
18: The Empty Seat
Director Chen didn't even look up from her phone. She was busy scrolling through a Sotheby’s catalog, her diamond rings clicking against the black obsidian table."He’s a ghost, Marcus," she said, her voice bored. "A decorative antique we keep in the attic because we’re too polite to throw it away."At the head of the long table, Marcus Thorne let out a short, dry laugh. At forty-two, Marcus was the kind of man who wore his wealth like armor. He was a distant cousin who had seen a gap in the Blackwood family tree after Leo’s parents were murdered and decided to plant himself right in the center of it."A ghost?" Marcus tapped a gold pen against a stack of legal papers. "Ghosts stay out of the way. Our little Blackwood heir is currently trending on a Northwood student’s TikTok because he was seen mopping a spill in the cafeteria. A trillion-dollar bloodline, and he’s obsessed with floor wax. It’s a joke."The other directors laughed. It was a tired, ugly sound."Maybe the trauma finall
19: The Price of Failure
The Sterling estate was a monument to old money, but its basement was a monument to the things that money bought to stay hidden. It didn't smell like the expensive jasmine perfume Maya usually wore. It smelled of cold stone, the metallic tang of blood, and the sharp, oaky scent of a very expensive scotch.Maya Sterling didn't make a sound. She couldn't. She had bitten her lower lip so hard to keep from screaming that a thin red line was now traveling down her chin, dripping onto the floor. Her silk gown was a wreck. It was a three-thousand-dollar designer piece she had picked out specifically for the Vanguard Auction, meant to make her look like a queen. Now, it was shredded across her back, hanging in damp, red-stained rags around her waist.Her wrists were raw. The heavy iron shackles were cold against her skin, pinning her arms to the thick mahogany post in the center of the cellar. She felt every inch of the rough wood against her chest as she hung there, her legs barely supportin
20: The Cracked Pedestal
The "Common Circle" was the heart of Northwood University. It was a massive, glass-walled hub where the air smelled like thirty-dollar avocado toast and the kind of high-end espresso that the elite students used to survive their nine-o'clock lectures. On Tuesday morning, the energy in the room was higher than usual. Everyone was staring at their phones. The Miller Group...one of the city’s biggest pillars...had gone into a total meltdown overnight.A roar of an engine outside made the glass vibrate.A matte-black Lamborghini swung into the fire lane, the tires screeching as it came to a stop right in front of the main entrance. Julian Thorne stepped out, his sunglasses were pushed up into his hair. He was wearing a jacket that cost more than most people’s tuition, and his walk was louder than the car. He was Marcus Thorne’s only son, and he carried himself like he owned the ground everyone else walked on."Brad! My man!" Julian yelled, spreading his arms as he walked into the hub.Bra