The news spread like wildfire. “The beggar is back.” That’s what the school forums, gossip groups, and anonymous message boards all titled their threads. Every student with a phone had either seen the Clorox Bar video or heard about it. Max, bloodied and humiliated. Max, the delivery boy who dared to touch Gina. Max, now mysteriously back on campus.
No one expected him to return, not after that night. They all thought he was injured, or just maybe he was dead.
Yet there he stood, outside his dormitory door, his hand still on the bell after pressing it twice.
The door creaked open slowly.
“Max?” Roland’s voice broke into a whisper, shocked like he was seeing a ghost. “Bro! Where have you been?” Roland grabbed him by the shoulder, looking him over with wide, anxious eyes. “You look like hell.”
Max chuckled weakly. “Feels like it too.”
Roland pulled him in immediately, slamming the door shut behind him. “Man, I was going crazy. I called the hospital, the police—I even thought of calling Sister Grace from the orphanage.”
Just then, the sound of tires screeched outside the dormitory window. Sarah Vernon’s red BMW convertible parked hastily. Trisha Macy climbed out from the passenger side, both girls nearly tripping over each other in their rush up the steps. Moments later, the door flew open.
“MAX!” Trisha gasped, running straight to him, throwing her arms around his neck.
Sarah stood in the doorway, hands on hips. “You had better have a damn good reason for going ghost on us.” But there was a trace of relief in her voice.
Max sat down heavily on the couch as Roland, Sarah, and Trisha all gathered around.
“I—I was just tired of everything,” Max said. “Needed some space. I didn’t mean to scare you all.”
Sarah folded her arms. “We warned you about Gina. Told you she was a social climber. Told you she didn’t care.”
“I know,” Max said, eyes low. “You were right.”
“Well, no more gloom,” Sarah declared, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get you out. Clear your head. There’s a new Italian fusion restaurant that opened near the East Wing. Our treat.”
“No arguments,” Roland said, pulling Max to his feet.
They arrived at La D’Argento, one of the most expensive restaurants near campus. With glass-paneled walls, velvet chairs, and classical music playing in the background, it was where only the rich or bold dared to dine.
Just as their food arrived, the peace was shattered.
Jerry McCormick strode in like he owned the place, Nicolas Herrera and Arnold Bricks trailing behind him like hyenas. Jerry’s smirk widened when he saw Max seated near the window.
“WELL, WELL, if it isn’t the campus clown!” Jerry barked loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear. “Back from your tragic little adventure? Or did you finally find a trash can cozy enough to sleep in?”
Max flinched but said nothing.
Jerry strolled to their table, arms spread in mock joy. “Ladies and gents, allow me to reintroduce Max—future Employee of the Month at Clorox bar.”
Snickers rose from a nearby table. Sarah's eyes narrowed.
“Didn’t you hear?” Jerry continued, spinning theatrically. “Our poor Max here was planning a grand gesture for the queen herself, Gina—yes, Gina! But he couldn’t even afford a decent handbag. Imagine!”
Then he pointed out the window.
“Take a look, Max. That’s what a real man looks like.”
Outside, Ethan sat on a shimmering Ducati bike, Gina pressed against him, both of them laughing while feeding each other ice cream. Cameras flashed as students passed by.
Sarah’s hands clenched under the table. “You’re sick,” she hissed.
“And now,” Jerry continued, “for the big reveal—let me introduce the legend himself!” He swept his hand dramatically toward Arnold Bricks. “Arnold Bricks! The heir to the Bricks fortune. Six international business awards, four national ones. His family is worth six hundred million dollars and he is worth over a hundred million dollars before the age of twenty-five.”
Nicolas leaned in, glowing with pride. “He’s the real deal. The next Elon Musk. Only sexier and richer.”
Roland rolled his eyes. “And what does this have to do with us?”
“EVERYTHING!” Jerry shouted. “Because Mr. Bricks here has decided to add a new treasure to his collection—Sarah Vernon.”
Everyone at the table turned toward Sarah, her face frozen in disbelief.
Arnold gave a lazy smile, licking his lips as though savoring something. “I’ve liked every post you’ve made for the past eleven months, Sarah. I even commented fire emojis. Didn’t you notice?”
Sarah gasped. “Wait—you’re that Arnold Bricks? The stalker from F******k? The one who said I looked ‘edible in red’? The one leaving those nasty comments about my boobs?”
Arnold laughed. “Guilty.”
Nicolas grinned and leaned into Max. “And guess what? Jerry here demanded a hundred grand from Arnold in exchange for helping him get Sarah. And Arnold paid. Up front”
Sarah’s mouth fell open. “You what?”
Jerry shrugged. “What? It’s business. And besides, now that we’re being honest, I was also the one who got Max fired.”
Max’s jaw tightened.
“I called your boss, Mr. Brandon. Told him you were unstable, potentially violent. And I arranged the delivery to Clorox bar myself. I personally requested you delivered it. I Wanted you to walk right into it.” Jerry chuckled. “All for entertainment. And now look at you—back to zero.”
The table was dead silent.
Until Roland exploded.
“You arrogant little parasite—!”
“Careful, Roland,” Jerry cut in with a sneer. “I could have you both thrown out of this school with a single phone call. You forget whose son I am?”
Sarah stood up, her voice cold as ice. “And you forget who our fathers are, Jerry. The Vernons and Macys donate over fifteen million annually to this institution. Don’t think you’re untouchable.”
Jerry waved her off. “Money talks. And Arnold’s willing to talk louder.”
Arnold leaned forward. “I’ll donate twenty-five million to this school—if Sarah agrees to date me.”
The entire restaurant seemed to pause.
Twenty-five million.
Even Jerry looked stunned.
Sarah stared at him. “You think you can buy people like…like…”
“Yes,” Arnold said simply. “Everyone has a price. Even you. And am willing to pay”
Jerry recovered quickly. “In fact, I’ll make the call now.” He pulled out his phone, dialing his father. “Let’s see if he agrees that this kind of generosity deserves a little… persuasion.”
Before he could hit ‘Call,’ Trisha stood up.
“You’re a disgrace, Jerry. And you too, Arnold. You think all women are objects you can bid for.”
“I’m just saying,” Jerry said with a smug smile, “if persuasion doesn’t work, Nigeria’s got voodoo. I hear the Igbo people there make love potions stronger than anything here. I’ll fly there myself if I have to.”
There was a loud gasp from a table nearby.
Roland stood up slowly, his body trembling—not from fear, but fury.
“That’s enough.”
Jerry turned to him with amusement. “What’s the beggar friend gonna do now? Cry?”
Jerry laughed. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?”
Roland boiled with anger but Trisha advised him to keep calm.
“Yeah
, boy. Keep calm!” Jerry added and proceeded to call his father.

Latest Chapter
Chapter 112
Max listened with all his heart and all his soul to Gina’s sobbing, pleading, begging. He could not understand his expression, it was tame and unremarkable. He did not interrupt, he did not whine, and he did not offer a single word of comfort. With the look on his face, he watched the performance with an intense concentration that was far more sinister than any breathlessness of temper could have been. There were tears streaming down Gina’s face; her voice now hoarse in the exertion in her sobbing; her grip on Max’s arm tightened to the point of pain; and she waited and waited shivering for some signal. a flicker of emotion, anything that might indicate a crack in his composure, a hint that her desperate act was working.“Please Max, ” she choked, her voice almost whispered, “just say something! Anything! Don’t just look at me like that! ”She squeezed his arm again tighter and more hardened: “I know I messed things up! I know! But people change, Max! I changed! You gotta believe me! ”
Chapter 113
Days turned to weeks. And the rumors about Ethan’s family kept coming out louder like a fever that spread indefinitely through the elite circles of Paris. It started sneaky; a raised eyebrow here, a cold nod there — fed by the reporter’s article and Max’s almost non-existent influence, it seems. Then the rumors turned into facts. News came in: first it came as rumors in obscure financial blogs, then as stories of great suspicion in trusted publications, details of misdeeds within Baron Industries, Ethan’s father’s sprawling organization of holdings – embezzlement of labor from overseas factories, violation of the environment in their manufacturing plants, various kinds of egregious financial maneuvers to boost profits over their limits and avoid paying taxes. The once almost impenetrable facade of the Baron family began to crumble, brick by brick.“Did you see the headlines today?” a student muttered in the school cafeteria, holding up a tablet displaying a damning exposé. “Baron Indu
Chapter 112
The formal dinner was winding down. The atmosphere was filled with the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee and the low hum of happy gossip. Crystal bleated faintly, the last scraps of these exquisite desserts were being removed from the tables. Max still at his place of honor at the VIP table was having a secret conversation with Isabelle Moreau and Jean-Luc Dubois, Trisha's hand gently resting on his arm.By some slipping pause, a woman left a nearby table and approached Max’s. She was a woman in her late thirtys, tastefully dressed, with sharp and pointed eyes that seemed to carry every detail with them. She had a small notebook and a pen in her pocket. It was Eleanor Vance, senior journalist at a leading international business magazine whose interviews were always savvy and for which she received outstanding reviews. She could peel back the corporate language, looking for the truth.“Mr. Lesley, ” she said with a respectful but firm tone of voice, in a straight-on way to Max.
Chapter 111
Obviously, that evening, the air in the private dining room of the Hôtel de Crillon was filled with the smell of truffle oil, expensive perfume and quiet power. And this wasn’t a networking event, this was a private dinner prepared by the very investors who had just been as impressed with Max as I had. The guest list was carefully thought out, a cabal of European finance, tech and art.Gina and Ethan, having gotten invitations through Ethan’s father’s now waning networks of connections, were momentarily out of place. Ethan in the stiff-fitting tuxedo squished together in his hand after a few nervous glances, held out the arms of Gina who was sitting in a shimmering silver dress which suddenly seemed rather loud with her smile crackling; they were led to a less visible table which was located just near the entrance of the kitchen, the sound of dishes constantly reminding them that they were “outside” of it.“This is... this is stupid, ” Ethan muttered, his voice tight and almost exhali
Chapter 110
When it was Max’s turn, he slowly strode up to the small podium stowed in what was really a dedicated pitch space. The posture was relaxed, confident, the whole audience watching – very attentively – Max, one of the few companies out there. Ethan and Gina had squeezed through at the back, faces slightly wary in deference but curiously so, too.“Good afternoon, ” Max said, his voice a steady, moderate tone, untightened by any jitteryness. He didn’t waver from flashy gestures or unnatural gesticulations. He spoke quietly and with an attractive clarity. “I’m Max Lesley, and today I’m here to discuss a problem that pays industries billions every year in lost income, reputation and enormously disproportionate impact of global inequality: opaque and unethical supply chains. ”He paused, let it sink in. “I’m proposing a decentralized and artificial intelligence-driven platform for ethical supply chain management: imagine a system where every component, every raw material, every labor hour, f
Chapter 109
The day after the gala, the school group headed to the other part of the city to attend another high-profile business networking event at a classy high-rise conference room overlooking the river Seine. A far less official but just as grand gathering, the event was designed to introduce the students to the world of international finance. The air was filled with whispered conversations, the tinkling of cups of coffee and the distinct smell of ambition: executive men in suit and tie walked, unshakable, with practice, exchanged business cards and polite smiles.Max (with Trisha) walked around the room with a quiet smile on his face. He wasn’t trying to get the attention, but it found him. He exchanged quick, polite nods with a number of executives, whom he met at the gala on Thursday evening. Jean-Luc Dubois was obviously busy.“As if everyone knows you here, ” Trisha whispered through him as they maneuvered past a crowd of financiers.“Jean-Luc is very... inquisitive, ” Max said, a faint
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