From Campus Pauper to Billionaire Campus King

Chapter 10

The students couldn’t believe their ears. A collective sigh, a wave of dismissive murmurs, swept through the classroom.

“Are you serious?” Someone scoffed, loud enough for Isaiah to hear. “He had one request from Chancellor Mark Baun. The richest man in the country’s right-hand man. He could’ve asked for a full scholarship, a trust fund, anything!”

“A pauper will always be a fool,” another voice muttered, laced with disgust. “He could’ve been set for life, but he blew it on getting Professor Lance fired. What a dumb move.”

“Yeah, like that changes anything for him,” a girl sneered, her eyes raking over Isaiah’s worn clothes. “His one and only lottery ticket is gone. And he is back to being Fetch-Boy.”

One by one, they turned away with their faces etched with disappointment, some with outright contempt. The brief and fleeting respect they had shown Isaiah evaporated and was replaced by the familiar disdain. 

They had hoped for a spectacle and a continued display of power, but Isaiah’s explanation had deflated their expectations. He was, to them, just a lucky idiot who had squandered a golden opportunity.

Jenny, however, stayed. She reached out with her hand, gently touching Isaiah’s arm. “Ignore them,” she said, her voice soft but firm. Her brow was furrowed with a hint of frustration in her eyes. 

“Though, I won’t lie, Isaiah… I wish you had asked for something more. Something that could have really helped you.” She sighed a small, weary sound. “But it’s done. You did what you thought was right. Now, come on. Jackson and Luke are waiting for us at the cafeteria.”

They walked out of the classroom, leaving the buzzing whispers behind. Jenny led him to her car; it was a green, rack-less Lexus. As they drove to the cafeteria. The silence in the car was comfortable and a stark contrast to the judgmental chatter they’d just escaped.

Soon, they arrived at the bustling campus cafeteria, a huge hall filled with the sound of trays and the drone of student conversations. Jackson and Luke were already there, waving them over from a table near the back. Their faces lit up when they saw Isaiah.

“Dude. You’re alive.” Jackson exclaimed, grinning.

“And Professor Lance is… well, he’s not,” Luke added, a mischievous glint in his eye. “We saw the videos, all of them. The slaps the Chancellor gave Professor Lance were so epic. And the part where the security threw him out was priceless.”

They pat Isaiah on the back with their laughter echoing in the cafeteria hall. “Lucy and Dean must be losing their minds right now,” Jackson chuckled. “It’s all their fault anyway.”

Luke leaned in, his voice dropping low. “Seriously, though, Isaiah. How did you manage that? Getting in such good graces with the Chancellor practically overnight?”

Jenny interjected, recounting Isaiah’s explanation about the "one favor."

Jackson whistled. “Man, a one-time favor from the Chancellor. Like, you could’ve asked for anything. A huge grant to start a business, a new car, or a house even.”

“Yeah, but you gave us one less devil to worry about,” Luke said, clapping Isaiah on the shoulder. “So, applause for that, my friend. One less tyrant to deal with.”

Isaiah just smiled, a small, knowing smile that he kept to himself. They had no idea.

Just then, a hush fell over the cafeteria. All eyes turned to the entrance. Harold, flanked by his usual entourage of sycophants, strode in, his arm draped possessively around Monica Sterns, Walter’s sister and Harold’s girlfriend, who looked every inch the pampered princess. They moved with an air of entitled confidence, their gazes sweeping over the room until they landed on Isaiah’s table.

Harold’s lips curled into a sneer. “Well, well, well. Look what we have here. The elusive Fetch-Boy. I’ve been trying to catch up with you since yesterday, but you seem to have developed a knack for disappearing.”

He and his friends surrounded their table, casting long shadows. Monica stood beside Harold, her expression one of boredom.

“But before I deal with that,” Harold continued, his voice dripping with condescension, “I heard you blew your one-time lottery ticket. On getting Professor Lance fired. Is that true?” 

He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “What a dumb decision, Fetch-Boy. Not only did you cost this school an academic treasure—though, admittedly, he was a bit of a bore—but it changed nothing about your miserable, pathetic life.”

He leaned closer, his eyes glinting. “If you had used that ticket to request some money, say, enough to pay me and my friends for destroying our shoes yesterday, that would have saved you a great deal of trouble. But now, your luck with the Chancellor is done. You’re back to where you were. And I, Fetch-Boy, am going to destroy you. Just like you destroyed my shoes.”

Jenny pushed back her chair, her eyes flashing. “Harold, back off! Don’t cause any trouble here!”

Harold chuckled, a low and unpleasant sound. “Oh, Jenny, darling. Don’t worry. I didn’t say I was going to destroy him right now. I’m a patient man. I’ll wait for this whole chaos to settle down. Then, I’ll strike.” He winked, a gesture that made Jenny’s stomach churn.

“Get lost, Harold,” Jenny snapped, her voice tight with anger. “And take your little circus with you.”

Monica stepped forward, her perfectly manicured hand resting on Harold’s arm. Her gaze was cold and dismissive as she looked at Jenny. “Careful with your language, Jenny. After all, you’ve lost the ambassadorship now, haven’t you?” 

Her smile was thin and cruel. “Tomorrow, I’m going to FrontView Talent to renew my contract and serve as the only beauty ambassador from our faculty for last year’s competition. Once that’s done, you’ll be a nobody. All your status and respect in this school are gone.”

Isaiah, who had been quietly eating his lunch, finally spoke with his voice calm and clear. “Jenny doesn’t need to be an ambassador to be respected. She’s already commanding respect from everyone who matters.”

Monica’s head snapped towards him, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Who the hell is talking?” She spat, her face contorted in disgust. “You! Fetch-Boy! Don’t you ever open your stinking dirty mouth to talk where I am. You know nothing about respect because you are just a fetch boy, literally, a dog.”

Harold placed a calming hand on Monica’s shoulder. “Easy, Nica. Don’t stoop to his level.” He offered a mock apology to Monica. “I’m sorry, babe. For bringing you here to suffer the stench of Isaiah and his trash friends. Let’s leave immediately before we’re contaminated.”

Isaiah merely smiled, a subtle and almost unnoticed curve of his lips. Luke and Jackson, however, were boiling with barely suppressed rage.

As Harold and Monica began to turn, Monica paused, her eyes fixed on Jenny. “And Jenny,” she added, her voice laced with venom, “a word of caution. Don’t even think about including Isaiah and his ragged friends on the guest list for the Beauty Goddess Contest tonight. If you try it, and they’re anywhere near the venue, you will regret it.”

Harold added a triumphant gleam in his eyes, “We’ve heard that two students will be hosting the event tonight. And with Monica as the latest FrontView Talent ambassador, she can influence the hosts to throw you, Jenny, out of the party. And she can also influence the Student Union Board to remove you from the presidency of our faculty. Your fall is about to begin, Jenny. And all you need to do to trigger it is to include Isaiah and his friends on that guest list.”

With that final speech, they walked away with their laughter echoing through the cafeteria in a mocking and triumphant sound.

Jenny was speechless. Her face, usually so composed, was filled with worry. Monica and Harold had just pushed her into a tight corner. How could she possibly remove her friends’ names from the guest list now? And if she didn’t, Monica was ruthless enough to go through with her threat. The presidency, the respect she’d earned—it could all vanish. She was visibly and profoundly worried.

Luke and Jackson, seeing her distress, exchanged a glance. “Jenny,” Luke said, his voice gentle. “Just remove our names. It’ll hurt to miss the event, sure, but it’s nothing compared to what you’ll feel if you lose everything you’ve worked so hard for. It’s not worth it. Let Monica have this win.”

Jackson nodded in agreement. “He’s right. Don’t risk it for us. We understand.”

Isaiah, however, said nothing. He simply continued to eat his meal, his expression calm, almost serene. None of what Monica said was possible. He was the host of the event. He was going to make Jenny his co-host. 

And Monica was going to get a rude awakening tomorrow when they met at FrontView Talent. He was its new boss, after all. He decided who got what.

“Isaiah?” Jenny asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Why are you so… unbothered? What do you think I should do?”

He looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You do nothing, Jenny. Everything Monica said? It's all just a bluff. She can’t really do any of it, even if she wanted to.”

His response left them all shocked. This was a serious matter. Monica wasn’t known to make empty threats. Luke and Jackson exchanged confused glances.

Seeing their concerns, Isaiah reached into his pocket. He pulled out the premium black diamond card, laying it flat on the table. It gleamed under the cafeteria lights, an impossible, minimalist rectangle of obsidian.

“Come on,” he said, pushing his chair back. “We’re going shopping. For what to wear to the event tonight.”

Luke’s eyes were wide, fixed on the card. “What… what kind of card is that?”

Jackson reached out a tentative finger, almost afraid to touch it. “Is this a real card? It looks… beautiful.”

Jenny, her eyes fixed on the card, her voice barely a whisper, finished the thought, a dawning realization spreading across her face. “Is that… a premium black diamond card? Owned by less than ten people in the entire country?”