From Campus Pauper to Billionaire Campus King

Chapter 9

The silence in the classroom was so profound that you could almost hear the collective gasp of two hundred students. Professor Lance, the untouchable and academic titan of a man whose arrogance was legendary, stood there with his face in a canvas of red and white that made a mark on his cheek. 

He had accumulated so many accolades, which was rumored to be the result of his subservience to the powerful parents of students like Walter and Harold. He always sided with the boys in their mishaps and was richly rewarded for his loyalty by their parents, but all that didn’t matter now as he stood still and was humiliated.

And of all the students in the school, it was because of Isaiah. Fetch-Boy.

Murmurs began to ripple through the room, a low hum of disbelief. 

“Did you see that?” 

“The Chancellor actually slapped him.” 

“For Fetch-Boy?” 

The questions hung in the air, thick with confusion and a dawning, unsettling realization. 

“This is sketchy for sure.” A student said.

“What kind of relationship did Fetch-Boy have with the Chancellor that would make him defend Isaiah so ferociously, and at the expense of the school's most valuable professor?”

Professor Lance was too stunned to speak; his pride as a man and a distinguished professor was wounded and tainted beyond repair. He forcefully found his voice in a pained and angry tone. “You… you can’t do this. I’ll leave. I’ll go to another school, and…and you’ll regret this, Chancellor; you’ll regret losing me.” 

He puffed out his chest, trying to regain some semblance of authority, clearly expecting the Chancellor to back down and to apologize or beg him to stay. And then, as a condition for his return, he would demand Isaiah’s expulsion.

The Chancellor merely raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Oh? You’ll leave?” His voice was calm, almost bored. “Professor Lance, you are fired. Effective immediately. I suggest you vacate the premises without delay.”

The words hit the room like a physical shockwave. 

“Fired?” 

“Just like that and for what? For Isaiah?” 

The murmurs swelled into a cacophony of whispers. 

“This is crazy. Who the hell really is Isaiah?”

A student in the crowd, “And what hold does he have over the Chancellor? Why is he gaining all these benefits?”

The Chancellor turned, a silent invitation to Isaiah. “Come, Isaiah. Let’s step outside for a moment.”

Professor Lance watched them turn, a dawning horror on his face. The Chancellor wasn’t bluffing. He was actually going to choose Isaiah over him. His job, his influence, his entire life. It was all slipping away from him. Professor Lance gulped; he wasn’t as hardened as everyone thought as he ran after them, his voice cracking with desperation.

“Chancellor! Wait! Please! I… I beg you, don’t do this. I have a family and my career. Please, Chancellor.” He reached out, grabbing the Chancellor’s arm, his face contorted in a mask of pure desperation. 

“I’ll do anything, sir, anything you ask.” As Professor Lance begged for forgiveness, the school security detail appeared and started dragging Professor Lance away.

The Chancellor stopped, a slow smile spreading across his face. He turned to his security detail. “Stop, bring him here,” he commanded, his voice low. 

By now, the entire scene was being filmed on dozens of phones. Hashtags were already trending: 

#ProfessorSlapped 

#FetchBoyRising

#ChancellorGoesWild. 

Memes of the humiliated professor were undoubtedly already circulating.

The security guards, two hulking figures, gently but firmly escorted Professor Lance back. He stood before the Chancellor and Isaiah, his head bowed and his shoulders shaking.

“You said you’d do anything?” the Chancellor asked, his voice deceptively soft.

Professor Lance nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face. “Yes! Anything. Just… just please, don’t take my job. I’ll lose everything.” 

He pictured his lavish parties, the all-expenses-paid vacations, the expensive gifts from grateful parents, the financial rewards, and the accolades. All was gone in a flash.

“Very well,” the Chancellor said, his smile widening. “You wish to keep your job, Professor Lance? Your position? Your… influence?”

“Yes! Oh, yes, Chancellor.”

“Then,” the Chancellor’s voice hardened, cutting through the professor’s pathetic pleas, “you will kneel before Isaiah. And you will apologize to him for everything you have done.”

A stunned silence descended once more. Everyone, including Isaiah, was stunned. Kneel? Apologize? Of all the demands the Chancellor could have made, this was it? 

Who was Isaiah, really? Was he just lucky? Was the Chancellor simply pitying him? Or was there something far deeper, far more significant at play? The questions swirled, unspoken, in the minds of every student present.

Only Isaiah knew the truth. He was the owner of BZU, Anthony Bradley’s son. The school was named after him by his father. The Chancellor was merely following orders and protecting his boss’s heir. But even Isaiah felt it was too much.

“Chancellor, you don’t have to…” Isaiah began, stepping forward.

The Chancellor subtly shook his head, a quick and almost unnoticeable gesture. His eyes, however, conveyed a clear message. ‘This is necessary. No one disrespects you like that.’

Professor Lance, still on his feet, finally registered the demand. His head snapped up, his eyes wide with outrage. “Kneel? To him? You must be insane. I’ll never—”

“Security,” the Chancellor interrupted, his voice like ice. “Remove him from the school premises. And make sure he never sets foot on this campus again.”

The two hulking guards moved forward. Professor Lance, his face contorted in a mixture of fury and despair, was struggling with the security guards as they dragged him along. 

“You’ll regret this, Chancellor! I’ll call Walter’s father. I’ll call them all. They’ll pull all their donations, and this fucking school will crumble.” He was dragged away, still screaming threats. 

Outside the university’s gate, he pulled out his phone, ready to follow through with his threats.

The Chancellor watched him go, then turned to Isaiah, his expression softening. “What I did was necessary, Isaiah. To protect you from such bullies. You need to understand that.”

Isaiah nodded, a strange mix of gratitude and discomfort stirring within him. “I understand, Chancellor. And thank you, but… from now on, please, let me deal with them myself.” 

He met the Chancellor’s gaze, his own eyes firm. “I need to do it myself; I need to grow into… into this.” He gestured vaguely, encompassing the entire and overwhelming new reality of his life.

The Chancellor studied him for a moment, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Very well, Isaiah. I agree. You’re ready.” 

He paused, then continued, his voice dropping slightly. “Now, the real reason I came. Your father… he instructed me to make you the host of the school’s Beauty Goddess Contest tonight.”

Isaiah blinked. “Host? Me?”

“Indeed. And you are to choose any female student to co-host with you.” The Chancellor’s smile deepened. “Furthermore, your father wants you to go to FrontView Talent Agency tomorrow. You are to take over leadership of the company. As such, you will be responsible for choosing the ambassadors who will be working with Brad Zay companies.”

Isaiah was stunned; he didn’t expect this so soon. His father was handing him such responsibilities. They had just met yesterday and he was trusting him with so much so quickly. It showed how serious Mr. Bradley was and how little time he truly had.

The Chancellor, seeing Isaiah’s bewildered expression, offered a final, reassuring nod. “I’ll leave you to it. Good luck tonight.” With that, he turned and left for his office.

As soon as the Chancellor was gone, the dam broke. Jenny rushed towards Isaiah with her face a mixture of awe and confusion. Other students swarmed him as well, all with their questions overlapping.

“Isaiah, what just happened?!” Jenny exclaimed, her eyes wide.

“How did you do that, man?” Another student asked

“What’s your secret?!”

“You finally got rid of that wicked old Professor Lance!”

No one dared call him Fetch-Boy anymore. Fear was born from witnessing Professor Lance’s swift and brutal downfall.

Isaiah looked at the expectant faces, especially Jenny’s, waiting for an explanation. He knew he couldn’t tell them the truth. Not yet.

“I… I was just lucky,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I did something for the Chancellor a while back, and he told me I could ask for one favor. This was it.”

A collective murmur swept through the crowd. Some students looked impressed, others skeptical.