Piss Off, This Is My Money

27

Jace stared.

Then, for some fucked‑up reason, a smile crept onto his face.

“This is fucking insane,” he whispered.

He checked the time.

3:18 p.m.

Jace grabbed an expensive jacket and shrugged it over his white shirt. Stood in front of the mirror. Fixed his hair. Swapped his earrings for the crazy ones. Changed the rings on his fingers—heavier. Louder.

Armor.

He walked out of the room without looking back.

Downstairs.

Into the Rolls‑Royce.

The door shut with a quiet, final click.

When you’re fighting rich kids without money, it’s miserable. Like you genuinely want to die.

But when you’ve got cash and you’re up against them?

You want to live long enough to watch every single one of them get embarrassed out of their fucking pants.

Minutes later, Jace was already striding down the hallway toward the lecturer’s office—the one in charge of the course.

He knocked once. Didn’t wait. Walked in.

A guy with hair dyed white was already inside. He lifted his hand and waved, like they were buddies or some shit.

“Hello, Jace Prescott,” the white‑haired guy said. “I’ve been wanting to meet the viral guy all these days. Didn’t think I’d bump into you like this.”

Whatever was on his face—whatever he thought passed for a smile—made Jace want to break something.

Jace gave him a filthy once‑over, the kind of look you don’t even give rotten bread, and walked straight past him to the lecturer’s desk.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Jace said flatly. “I saw the test result.”

“Good evening, Jace,” the lecturer replied, already tired. “What about it?”

“I can’t have that score.”

“Of course,” the lecturer said calmly. “That’s why I added a bonus of three points to everyone. Because of you.”

Jace’s lips twitched into a slow, dangerous smile.

“I performed well in that exam, sir.”

“How can you say that?” the lecturer sighed. “You’ve clearly been preoccupied. Becoming a father does that—it steals your time.”

“This—”

“Jace,” the white‑haired guy cut in, leaning back. “That’s your point. Accept it and piss off, yeah? You already have money. That’s the only reason you’re in this school anyway. Probably thought you could beg more from rich dudes.”

Jace turned to the lecturer.

The lecturer wouldn’t meet his eyes. The look on his face was final. Done.

“So what are we doing about this, sir?” Jace asked, voice tight. “I can take another test right here if that’s what it’ll take.”

“It’s bold of you to assume the computer made a mistake,” the lecturer replied. “I didn’t mark any of you myself.”

“I’m also saying I couldn’t have had—”

“Mr. Jace, see me later,” the lecturer said, already standing. “And make sure you read for your exams. Anything below average isn’t allowed here. You know that. Otherwise, you’ll be kicked out.”

He walked toward the door.

Jace followed him.

“I can’t—”

Laughter cut him off.

Sharp. Mocking. Loud enough to burn.

“How can you not know what’s going on here, Jace?” the white‑haired guy said, tilting his head like he was explaining something obvious to a slow kid. “Maya’s parents have taken over. They’re done watching you trample over their kids like you’re something.”