A Trillionaire Pauper

Chapter 2

Kendrick froze the moment Melissa’s eyes landed on him.

Time seemed to slow, the air growing thick and suffocating as her playful expression drained away, replaced by something distant—something cold. She stared at him as though he were an inconvenience she hadn’t expected to see.

“Kendrick…” she said at last, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was flat, stripped of warmth. Then her lips curled, a cruel edge creeping in. “What are you doing here?”

She paused, her gaze flicking to the package on the table, then back to him.

“Oh,” she added with a sneer, realization dawning. “You’re here to deliver something.”

Her eyes raked over him from head to toe.

“The campus errand boy, huh?”

The words hit him harder than any punch ever could.

Kendrick felt his chest tighten violently, his stomach twisting as if something inside him had been torn loose. Every hope he had carried into today—his quiet birthday plans, the small gift he’d saved for, even the memory of her smile—shattered in a single heartbeat.

“Melissa…” he began, his voice trembling despite his effort to stay steady. His hands shook uncontrollably. “What is this? Why are you—”

She stepped past him without hesitation, brushing his shoulder as though he were invisible. She went straight to Bryan, slipping effortlessly into his space, her body language intimate and familiar.

“I don’t know you,” she said dismissively, not even looking back. “Never have.”

Kendrick’s breath caught.

“You’re just…” she continued, her tone bored, almost amused, “the errand boy who helped me do some projects and schoolwork. Because you were available. And you needed to be useful.”

The words echoed in his head, hollow and deafening.

Laughter erupted.

Bryan’s friends leaned in from the doorway, their faces alight with excitement, phones already raised. Screens glowed as they recorded every second, eager to capture the humiliation unfolding before them.

“Oh, this is perfect,” Bryan sneered, clearly enjoying himself.

“Errand boy,” another mocked. “Thinking he actually matters.”

“Pathetic.”

Kendrick stood there, rooted to the spot, his mind screaming that this couldn’t be real.

“Melissa, how can you say that?” he protested, his voice cracking despite himself. “We’ve been dating for months. Months!”

She rolled her eyes dramatically, annoyance flickering across her face.

Dating.

The word felt like a joke now.

Memories crashed into him all at once—late nights helping her with assignments, skipped meals to finish her projects, the warnings he’d ignored, the times he’d gotten into trouble just to cover for her. He had been the reason her grades shined. He had been there when no one else was.

His body felt both freezing cold and burning hot at the same time.

Was he dreaming?

It all made sense now. The secrecy. The excuses. The way she never wanted to be seen with him in public. He’d thought she wanted privacy. Protection.

No.

She’d been ashamed of him.

She’d been using him.

Bryan stepped forward, looming over Kendrick, his presence heavy with dominance.

“Now,” Bryan said slowly, voice dripping with malice, “let me show you what a real man does.”

Before Kendrick could react, Bryan reached out and grabbed Melissa’s butt, squeezing it possessively while locking eyes with Kendrick. A cruel smirk spread across his face as he pulled her into a deep, deliberate kiss.

The room exploded.

Whistles. Cheers. Laughter.

Kendrick felt something inside him snap.

With a hoarse cry, he lunged forward, desperation fueling his body. He didn’t care about consequences anymore. He just wanted—needed—to reclaim even a shred of dignity.

But he never got the chance.

Bryan’s friends moved instantly. Hands slammed into Kendrick’s shoulders, his chest, his back. He was thrown to the floor with brutal force, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Someone pinned his arms, another pressed a knee into his spine.

Laughter rang out, cruel and sharp, amplified by the phones still streaming live.

“Look at him!” someone shouted. “Crying like a baby!”

“Errand boy can’t even stand up,” another jeered.

Kendrick struggled, gasping, trying to push himself up. He tried to speak. To explain. To scream.

But then Melissa’s voice cut through everything.

“I’ve never even liked you,” she said coldly, her words precise and lethal. “You don’t exist to me. You’re just the errand boy. Nothing more.”

Something inside Kendrick collapsed completely.

The humiliation burned hotter than the pain of every shove, every slap. His vision blurred as he was dragged up and slammed hard against the wall, Bryan’s friends raining blows on him while Bryan laughed openly.

“You really thought she cared about you?” Bryan mocked. “Errand boy… you’re nothing. Not to her. Not to anyone.”

He leaned in closer.

“You’re just the school’s charity case.”

The crowd of rich students laughed, clapped, and kept streaming. Kendrick summoned every ounce of strength he had left and threw one last desperate swing at Bryan.

It missed.

A crushing blow answered, sending him sprawling across the marble floor, his body skidding painfully before coming to a stop.

Then—voices.

Familiar. Desperate.

“Kendrick! Stop! Let him go!”

Zara and Jayson burst through the crowd, fury and panic written across their faces. They shoved Bryan’s friends aside, ignoring the protests, and hauled Kendrick up between them.

He was bruised. Bloodied. Trembling.

Barely able to walk.

They rushed him out, away from the laughter, away from the cameras, straight to the hospital.

…

The hospital room was quiet.

Too quiet.

Nurses cleaned him up without much conversation. Bandages wrapped cuts and bruises. Ice pressed against swollen skin. Kendrick sat on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his eyes empty, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

“I hate them,” he muttered finally, his voice rough. “All of them. Especially her.”

His hands curled into fists.

“But I hate myself more,” he whispered. “For being this poor. This miserable.”

Zara squeezed his shoulder gently. “Don’t say that about yourself. You’re safe now. Forget them, okay?”

Jayson nodded in agreement. “Tomorrow we plan. Tonight, rest.”

Zara gave him one last look before stepping out with Jayson, leaving Kendrick alone.

The tears came silently.

No sobs. No sound.

Just quiet tears sliding down his face as the weight of the day crushed him.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled at him.

Just as sleep threatened to take him, his phone buzzed.

He frowned, lifting it weakly—and froze.

[Identity confirmed!]

[You are the sole heir!]

[To the Hale Empire!]

[A trillion dollars empire!]

[A limitless black access card will be delivered to you first thing tomorrow morning!]

Kendrick stared at the screen, his mind reeling.

Shock. Disbelief. Anger.

And beneath it all, a spark of something darker.

Power.

Revenge.

Freedom.

But doubt crept in just as fast.

He stared at the message, the words blurring as his exhausted mind tried to process them. Sole heir? Hale Empire? Black access card?

It sounded like a ridiculous drama. Too big. Too unreal.

Especially after everything he had endured today.

His grip loosened. His eyes closed.

And slowly, he drifted into sleep.

…

Morning came too fast.

Kendrick’s hands shook as he picked up the sleek black access card that had been delivered to him. It was heavier than it looked, cold to the touch, almost alive in his palm. Every engraved detail screamed power.

This is real.

This is mine?

His phone buzzed again.

A follow-up message appeared, making his heart race.

[Kendrick Hale, you are required to report to Hale Empire headquarters this morning. You will complete the formalities and officially take control of your inheritance. All assets, holdings, and investments are under your name. Confidentiality is critical. No one must know until the announcement is made.]

Kendrick stared at the message, his reflection faintly visible on the black surface of the card.

His world had shattered.

And something far greater had just begun.