GHOST TRILLIONAIRE OF VANDERBILT

Chapter Seven: The blue blood clique

Meanwhile at Kingswell university, inside an Empty Classroom, smoke curled into the air like smoke from sacrifice.

At the centre of the room, a figure silhouetted   in the wafting smoke. 

Thompson Parker.

He sat at the centre of the room on an expensive furniture placed at the middle of the room like a throne, his shift unbuttoned, his legs crossed like the entire school belonged to him— and of course it did.

Three other students looking rugged and rich stood around him.

This group belonged to Thompson Parker and he called it— THE BLUE BLOOD. A Clique of five richest students in the school. They're feared across the school and no one dare cross their path because of their past atrocious acts that put fear in everyone's heart. Professor stay off their lane, students walked another path they take. Kingswell contained influential students but the BLUE BLOOD are in their own league. A terrifying group of five.

Thompson waved at one of them. He stepped forward and leaned closer.

"Get me a girl. You know my spec." Thompson Said, his voice rugged.

Suddenly, the door of the room burst open and Lucas Prescott stumbled inside the room , his boot stabbing the marble like bullet on steel.

The room shifted. Thompson turned to the door to know who the heck barged into his base like a dog. He paused, seeing Lucas Prescott stumbled in like a battered thing— his outfit was wrinkled, his pants— right on his knee was plastered with dusk where he earlier crumbled at Caius feet, his crooked finger has been straightened at the school infirmary and bandaged.

"What the heck, Lucas?!?" Thompson growled.

Lucas didn't speak immediately. He paced the room like wounded animal in a cage, his breathing heavy, anger written in his expression.

"Someone dare to challenge me!!" He growled, his viens bulging on his neck.

Immediately the statement landed, the room shifted. Thompson Parker pulled the Cigar away from his lips. He dropped his leg and leaned forward slightly, eyes steady on Lucas like he'd just heard some wrong information.

"What did you just say?" His voice came dangerous low. 

Lucas was panting.

"One bastard made me knee at his feet in front of the Class!" He yelled, his anger and frustration climbed fast, his leg slammed into  a stool, sending it across the room to meet the wall.

The room fell into a grave silence.

"Are you joking?" Davis, one of them said with disbelief in his eyes. No one had the effrontery to speak in front of the BLUE BLOOD. Someone daring to make one of them knee is like a criminal offense.

"It's not April! I'm not fucking joking!" Lucas snapped, saliva spraying from his lips.

Thomson went silent, calculating. He leaned closer, Cigar burning between his fingers like burning offering.

 

"Tell me," Thompson Said, "Who is the professor? He's new here?"

"— Or he's just stupid." Vincent another one completed. He's the biggest one among them  with the temper of a pressure cooker and mind of a Potato.

"He's a student! A damn Rookie!" 

Thompson Parker rose to his feet, his chest filling the space. His expression went from disbelief to anger in the space of a second.

"A student," He said, his voice dropping even lower and dangerous, "made you knee at his feet? Is he Mad?" 

"Who the hell is he? Some rich ass dude?" The last guy, Viktor chipped in, his voice rough.

"He's a fucking nobody! A street rat!" 

Lucas Prescott was boiling.

Thompson stepped close to him and landed a slap to his face surprisingly.

TAAAA!

It echoed.

The hall fell into silence, surprise crossing their expression.