2025-12-09 06:29:57The moment Ryan and Rose stormed out of the garden, the air seemed to settle again. For the first time since they appeared, Benjamin could breathe.
The manager turned to him at once, his posture stiff with guilt. “Sir, I sincerely apologize for their behavior.”
“You don’t need to,” Benjamin said. “They’re not your problem.”
The manager shook his head. “Even so, they caused trouble under my watch. I take that seriously.”
He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I will arrange two plainclothes bodyguards to accompany you from now on. They will stay out of sight but close enough to step in if something like this happens.”
That startled Benjamin. “Bodyguards? Isn’t that a bit much?”
“Not for someone of your status,” the manager said quietly.
Benjamin wasn’t sure what his status even was yet, but the manager continued before he could reply.
“There is another matter. Your appearance…” He hesitated. “Some might mistake you for staff. If you would allow it, we can provide several new outfits.”
Ah. Clothes. Benjamin raised an eyebrow.
His eyes dropped to his faded shirt and worn-out jeans. The manager wasn’t wrong. For the first time in years, he actually felt self-conscious.
Then he remembered what the guard had said. The rich and elites dressed simply. Custom-made, understated, quiet. Only the insecure flaunted the latest labels.
“No logos. Just a few outfits that look… old money, I guess.”
The manager’s relief was instant. “Of course. We will have them tailored and delivered to your suite in the morning.”
Benjamin almost smiled. “Thanks.”
The manager bowed slightly, almost too respectfully. “Please rest well, Sir.”
The next morning, sunlight slipped through the tall windows and warmed the edge of the king-size bed. It was softer than anything Benjamin had ever slept in. He lingered for a moment, sinking into the blankets, wondering if this kind of comfort would ever stop feeling unreal.
But reality wasn’t going to wait for him.
He got up, showered, and changed into one of the outfits left neatly folded on a chair. The fabric was clean and tailored. The shirt hugged him perfectly without feeling tight. Not a single label in sight. The pants fit as though they had been measured on him. Even the shoes felt custom-made.
Simple. Comfortable. Clean.
He looked almost like someone who belonged somewhere.
Almost.
Benjamin grabbed his backpack and headed down. The manager was already in the lobby, standing with two men who blended into the setting too well.
“Your escorts,” the manager said quietly. “They will stay discreet.”
Benjamin nodded. “Alright.”
With that, he left the hotel and made his way to campus. It felt strange walking through the gates in clothes that actually fit. No one stared at him for looking shabby. They stared because he didn’t look shabby at all.
Memovile University wasn’t a bad school. It was just… shallow. Most students came from comfortable families and made sure everyone knew it. A few were like Benjamin, stuck between wanting to belong and knowing they never truly would.
Back then, he could have gone somewhere better, but scholarships only covered so much. His adoptive parents wouldn’t pay so much as a cent so long as it involved him. Memovile University offered a half scholarship. That was it. End of discussion. So he ended up stuck in the same place as Ryan.
Lucky him.
When Benjamin stepped into Professor Aaron Caldwell’s classroom, the vibe shifted instantly. Everyone stopped talking and turned their gaze toward him.
Even Professor Caldwell paused mid-sentence.
For a moment, Benjamin simply stood there as their eyes locked onto him as if he had grown horns.
Then Ryan’s voice cut through the silence.
“Look who finally crawled out of the security booth.”
A ripple of laughter broke out around him.
Benjamin turned toward the sound. Ryan and Rose were lounging in the back row, flanked by his usual entourage. Ryan leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on Benjamin with a sharp, hungry kind of amusement—like a pack waiting for the signal to pounce.
Benjamin smiled faintly and took his seat.
“If someone who bought his way in can attend class, then why can’t I?” he said, turning just enough to see Ryan’s face.
Ryan’s expression tightened. “At least I didn’t sneak into a hotel like a rat,” he shot back.
Benjamin shrugged. “But you got slapped like one.”
The laughter that erupted was quick and sharp.
Professor Caldwell cleared his throat loudly. “Benjamin.”
The whole room quieted.
“You may think you’re being funny, but I suggest you treat Ryan better. With his family rising in influence, someone like you should learn to be polite.” His smile was thin and petty. “There is a reason people like him will always excel. And people like you… well. You should understand your limits.”
Benjamin couldn’t hold back a small laugh. “Professor, maybe you should focus on teaching instead of kissing up to students. I mean… you could get involved in a scandal one day, if you’re not careful.”
Gasps rippled through the room.
Professor Caldwell’s face turned a violent shade of red. “You—how dare you speak to me like that! I could fail you!”
Benjamin met his glare calmly. “You can try.”
A chair scraped loudly as someone stood up. One of Ryan’s goons, Chris, cracked his knuckles.
“That’s it. I’m tired of listening to this loser.” He jerked his chin toward a few guys behind him. “Let’s teach him a lesson.”
Behind Benjamin, there was movement. The hair on the back of his neck rose. His bodyguards were probably already watching.
He stood and looked Chris dead in the eye. “Try it.”
He didn’t raise his voice, but something in his tone must have gotten through. Chris hesitated. His friends exchanged confused looks.
Before anyone moved, another voice cut in.
“Seriously? You guys sound like gangsters.” Elise crossed her arms, then shifted her gaze to Ryan. “This is school. You’re going way too far.”
Elise had always been decent. Benjamin expected nothing less, considering she came from a wealthy middle-class family. Unlike the others, she had never looked at him or treated him like dirt.
Ryan scoffed. “Relax. I’m not going to hit him.” He pointed at Benjamin. “But he embarrassed both me and Rose last night. And there has to be a price for that.”
Benjamin raised an eyebrow. “Price? And what’s this price, if I may ask?”
Ryan leaned back with smug confidence. “Well, our fraternity is having dinner at the Grand Prix Hotel tonight. Foot the bills and we’ll call it even—that’s if you can.”
The class went silent.
Elise stepped forward. “Are you crazy? You’re trying to trap him. The Grand Prix Hotel? Ryan, that’s thousands of dollars. You know he doesn’t have that kind of money.”
Ryan smirked. “That’s the point.”
Benjamin looked at Elise for a moment, then back at Ryan. Then he smiled—the kind that twisted just enough to make Ryan’s smirk falter.
“Ryan,” he called out. “Deal.”
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Chapter 210
Spring arrived at Memoville without announcement.Not suddenly. Not dramatically. It didn’t behave like an event. It behaved like a correction that had taken its time to arrive, as if the campus had been slightly misaligned for months and had finally eased back into place without anyone agreeing it should.The air changed first. Movement through the campus no longer felt like pushing against something invisible. Conversations started earlier, ended later. People lingered in doorways instead of passing through them quickly.Benjamin noticed it from the window of the Golden Front.He had been standing there longer than usual, coffee in hand, watching the city wake up in layers.He realized, without emphasis, that nothing in him was rushing.That was new.Not peace.The Mercury Corporation board call began at nine.Martha Matthews appeared on screen precisely on time, as she always did, with a calm expression on her face.The agenda moved quickly. Reports were delivered. Questions were
Chapter 209
Two weeks after the clause execution, Terence Lin attempted to contest the revocation through external legal channels.The filing arrived on a Monday morning.Martha Matthews brought the notice into Benjamin’s office at Mercury Corporation with a calm expression on her face and was annoyed only by the paperwork it created.“They filed in commercial court,” she said, dropping the documents on his desk. “Improper execution claim. Abuse of discretionary authority. Procedural unfairness.” A pause. “None of it is strong.”Benjamin skimmed the filing once.The argument was carefully written, but the problem remained obvious: the clause was airtight. Every procedural step had been followed precisely. Every notification had been documented.The challenge had nowhere stable to stand.“How long?” Benjamin asked.“Not long,” Martha said. “They’re testing whether pressure creates hesitation.”Benjamin closed the file.“It won’t.”And it didn’t.Four days later the challenge was withdrawn quietly,
Chapter 208
Terence Lin’s reply did not arrive through the formal channel.That alone was enough to tell Benjamin what kind of response it would be.The Mercury Corporation legal inbox remained untouched that morning. No acknowledgment of the clause. Instead, Martha received a call through a secondary contact, an associate of the Lin family requesting “clarification” and, more importantly, a meeting.Benjamin read the summary once and set the page down.“He’s trying to create a conversation where none exists,” Martha said.“It’s delay,” Benjamin replied.“Or leverage.”He glanced at the message again. “There is no leverage in a closed clause.”Martha waited a moment before saying, “Or he’s used to clauses that behave like suggestions.”Benjamin leaned back slightly, gaze drifting toward the city beyond the window.“Decline the meeting,” he said. “Formal notice only. Restate that the clause is non-negotiable.”Martha nodded. “And Lin?”“He’ll escalate.”“Then we stay aligned.”She gathered the pap
Chapter 207
Thursday arrived with the feeling of something already decided.At 8:17 a.m., Martha Matthews sent a single message:Countersignature complete.Benjamin read it once in silence.Then replied:Proceed.He didn’t linger on the screen afterward. The phone was placed face down beside his notebook, as if it had already finished its job for the morning.The notifications went out at 9:03 a.m.Two recipients.Two systems receiving the reality at the exact same moment.Terence Lin. Ryan Lawson.The Mercury Corporation dispatch protocol didn’t make it to the delivery. It didn’t announce the importance. It simply ensured receipt, verification, and acknowledgment.Each file contained the same architecture:Clause reference: Primary Ownership Governance Provision (Section 3)Declaration of ownership authorityFormal review summaryEvidence index (transactional, behavioral, structural)Seven-day acknowledgment window prior to executionAnd beneath it all, a signature:Benjamin Wayne, Primary Owner
Chapter 206
The document arrived at eight the following morning, but the office had already been awake for an hour.Mercury Corporation didn’t really “start” its day so much as tighten into it. Systems came online in layers. Reports updated. Screens refreshed.Benjamin was already at his desk when Martha Matthews entered.She didn’t speak immediately. That alone told him this wasn’t routine.She placed a thick folder on the desk and sat across from him with the stillness of someone who had already read it twice and was now waiting for him to do the same.“Legal framework for clause activation,” she said.Benjamin nodded once and opened it.The first pages were procedural architecture: definitions of authority, confirmation of ownership, jurisdictional grounding. Clean corporate language. The kind that existed so no one could later claim confusion.He read quickly until he didn’t.The third section slowed him.Not because it was unclear.Because it wasn’t.He read it once.Then again, more deliber
Chapter 205
The document arrived on Benjamin’s desk at Mercury Corporation on a Tuesday morning.That was usually how important things arrived.No announcement. No ceremony. Just paper.Martha Matthews placed the folder in front of him without a word. Cream-colored. Heavy stock. The Mercury Corporation letterhead printed at the top like a declaration on paper.She didn’t sit immediately. She waited.That alone made Benjamin look up.Martha only did that when something does not sit right.“Read the third section,” she said.Benjamin opened the folder.The first pages were standard corporate language—structure definitions, ownership clarifications, boilerplate clauses designed to make lawyers comfortable and auditors bored. He skimmed them with practiced efficiency, eyes moving faster as the material proved unremarkable.Then he slowed.Third section.His gaze stopped there.He read it once.Then again.Not because he didn’t understand it—but because he did.The words didn’t change on the second re
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