2025-12-24 20:13:30Kendrick stared at the message on his phone long after the screen dimmed.
The words refused to make sense, blurring together as his exhausted mind tried—failed—to process them.
Sole heir.
Hale Empire.Trillions.It felt impossible.
A story too large. Too ridiculous. Too cruel to be true.
Not for someone like him.
Not after the worst day of his life.
He lay back against the stiff hospital mattress, bandages pulling at his skin, bruises throbbing with every breath. Laughter still echoed in his ears—sharp, mocking, endless. He could still see the phones pointed at him, capturing his humiliation from every angle, turning his pain into entertainment.
What kind of joke was this?
Was the universe mocking him now too?
His fingers tightened around the phone. His chest ached.
No… this had to be fake.
A scam. A prank. Some elaborate cruelty meant to break him just a little more.
But exhaustion won.
His eyelids grew heavy. His thoughts slowed. And despite the storm raging inside him, Kendrick drifted into sleep.
…
Morning came too fast.
Pain greeted him first.
Every muscle screamed as he shifted on the narrow bed. Bandages tugged at his skin, reminding him that yesterday had not been a nightmare—it had been very real. The shame, the beating, Melissa’s cold eyes, Bryan’s laughter.
It all came rushing back.
Then he saw it.
The black card.
It lay quietly on the bedside table, pristine and untouched, as though it didn’t belong in such a miserable room. The matte surface absorbed the light instead of reflecting it, its edges sharp and flawless.
Kendrick slowly reached for it.
The moment his fingers closed around it, his breath hitched.
Cold.
Heavy.
It felt… different.
Like it wasn’t just metal.
Like it carried weight far beyond its size.
As if it had been carved from the bones of power itself.
“This can’t be fake…” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
He knew enough.
Only three of these cards existed in the entire world.
Only the top 0.00000000001%—the people who made presidents kneel and countries tremble—owned them.
No one would spend this kind of money, build this level of detail, just to trick a poor campus errand boy.
Still…
Doubt gnawed at him relentlessly.
What if this was just another setup?
Another humiliation waiting to happen?
He swallowed hard.
“Let me just go and confirm,” he murmured to himself.
That was all he needed. Confirmation.
Nothing else mattered.
…
Kendrick climbed onto his small scooter outside the dorm.
The engine coughed weakly, sputtering like it was tired of life—much like him. He coaxed it forward and headed straight for Hale Empire Headquarters.
The ride felt longer than usual.
His heart pounded the entire way.
What if it was real?
What if he had actually been chosen?
What if everything he had suffered—every insult, every slap, every moment of humiliation—wasn’t the end…
But the beginning?
The skyline shifted as the city’s heart came into view.
And then—
Hale Empire.
The building dominated everything around it.
A colossal tower of glass and gold, piercing the sky like a blade. Sunlight reflected off its surface so fiercely it almost hurt to look at. Armed guards stood at every entrance, weapons sleek and terrifyingly expensive.
This wasn’t just a company.
It was a fortress.
Kendrick slowed his scooter, throat dry.
He didn’t belong here.
But his body carried him forward anyway.
He rode toward the parking lot, hands trembling.
And then—
CRRRRRSSSH!
The sound ripped through the air.
Metal scraped violently against metal.
Kendrick’s scooter jolted as it brushed against something impossibly smooth.
His heart dropped straight into his stomach.
Slowly… dreadfully… he looked up.
A sleek white Porsche.
Flawless.
So expensive it could buy his entire campus twice over.
“No… no, no…” Kendrick whispered, panic surging. “God, please no…”
Before he could even breathe properly, the Porsche doors opened.
And out stepped the last person he wanted to see.
Clinton.
And beside him—
Clinton’s father.
A man whose wealth was loud… but whose arrogance was louder.
Clinton’s eyes widened in surprise.
Then curled into a wicked smirk.
“Ohhh,” Clinton said loudly, making sure everyone nearby could hear. “Look who we have here. The errand pauper again.”
He laughed.
“Are you stalking me now? Did you follow me here because of what happened with your girlfriend?”
Kendrick didn’t respond.
Didn’t defend himself.
Didn’t care.
All he wanted—no, needed—was to confirm the message he had received that morning.
But Clinton and his father weren’t finished.
“How dare a thing like you touch my car?” Mr. Voss barked, stepping closer. “You poor rats don’t understand value. That scratch alone is worth more than your miserable life.”
He sneered.
“And your whole generation.”
People passing by slowed, curiosity drawing them in. Heads turned. Whispers spread.
Clinton folded his arms, enjoying every second.
“It’s like he’s cursed to be useless,” he laughed.
Kendrick clenched his fists.
But stayed silent.
He had no time for them.
Clinton’s father hissed in disgust.
“Security!”
Three armed security men rushed over instantly.
“Beat him,” the man ordered coldly. “Make sure he can’t walk.”
He shoved a thick bundle of cash into one guard’s hand.
“Ten thousand dollars each. Break him.”
Clinton smiled proudly.
“Dad, let’s go,” he said. “We can’t be late. Mr. Desmond is waiting—the man who will make us billionaires.”
They turned and walked away confidently, heading straight into the building.
Leaving Kendrick behind.
To the wolves.
The guards grabbed him immediately, fingers digging into his arms. Knuckles cracked ominously as they dragged him forward.
Panic surged.
“Stop! Wait!” Kendrick shouted. “I—I am the new heir to the Hale Empire! I can prove it!”
The guards paused.
Then burst into laughter.
“If you’re the heir,” one said mockingly, “then I’m the President of the world.”
“And I’m the heir to the planet,” another added.
They laughed harder.
“Show us your proof, idiot.”
Kendrick’s hands shook as he reached for his phone.
“Look—the message—”
Before he could even unlock the screen, one guard snatched it and slammed it against the ground.
CRACK!
The screen shattered.
“No!” Kendrick gasped.
Desperation clawed at his chest. He quickly pulled out the black access card.
But instead of belief—
They recoiled in disdain.
“Liar!” one guard spat. “Thief! Criminal!”
He yanked the card from Kendrick’s hand and held it up, laughing.
“You stole this expensive card.”
The others joined in, mocking him mercilessly.
“You?” one sneered. “Owner of a trillion-dollar empire?”
Another scoffed. “You aren’t even owner of a decent life.”
Kendrick’s chest tightened painfully.
Helpless.
Again.
Not even the truth could save him.
And now—it was worse.
They had “proof.” A broken phone. A stolen card.
Enough excuse to destroy him completely.
They raised their fists.
Ready to beat him into unconsciousness.
Then—
A deep engine roared into the parking lot.
The sound alone commanded attention.
A Rolls-Royce Phantom glided in like a silent threat, its presence suffocating. Nearly ten million dollars of power rolled to a smooth stop.
Everything froze.
The door opened.
A woman stepped out.
Late twenties.
Sharply dressed.
Her aura was colder than steel.
Every guard straightened instantly.
Ms. Lizzy Gold.
She was feared.
Because she served only one person—
The Acting CEO of Hale Empire.
The most feared man in the world.
“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”
Her voice sliced through the air like a blade.
Everyone turned.
And bowed immediately.
Kendrick bowed too, heart hammering, silently praying.
Lizzy Gold’s eyes locked onto him.
“Are you Kendrick Hale?” she asked.
He swallowed.
“Yes… ma’am.”
Instantly—
She bowed.
A full, perfect ninety-degree bow.
“You are very welcome, sir,” she said respectfully. “Please forgive us for the delay. We were supposed to meet you earlier. I sincerely apologize for this disrespect.”
The world stopped.
Gasps rippled through the parking lot.
The guards froze in horror.
“Ma—” one stammered. “You’re bowing to a thief. He—”
SLAP!
Lizzy struck him so hard his head snapped sideways.
“How dare you?” she hissed. “This is our boss’s boss. The rightful heir to the Hale Empire.”
The guards trembled violently.
“Slap each other,” she commanded coldly. “Until he tells you to stop.”
They obeyed instantly, panic flooding their faces.
Kendrick didn’t even look at them.
He simply bent down.
And picked up his black card.
“Sir,” Lizzy said gently, her tone completely different now. “Please follow me. The CEO, Mr. Adrian Drax, is waiting for you.”
Kendrick took a deep breath.
And followed behind her.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Chapter 10
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
Chapter 9
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 8
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
Chapter 7
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
Chapter 6
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
Chapter 5
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
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