2025-11-05 16:25:54Chapter 3
Declan walked back across campus long after midnight, moving as if his body had forgotten how to feel. His heart still felt heavy from the breakup. No matter how many times he replayed it in his mind, he still couldn’t believe Tahlia had walked away so easily. He remembered how he had worked after classes, saved every dollar, skipped meals, and did extra jobs at the stables just to get her something special for her birthday earlier that year. A silver necklace , delicate, customized with her name. He had hidden it away because he wanted to give it to her when the time felt right. Now, it felt pointless. But since it was meant for her, he decided to give it anyway , maybe this one last gift would close the door for good. He placed the tiny box in his pocket and headed toward the student apartment buildings. The air felt unusually warm, and bass from loud music thumped around the corner. When he reached her building, he stopped. A red Ferrari was parked right in front of the entrance. Shiny. Loud. Expensive. Only one person on campus had a red Ferrari. Stefan Sinclair. Declan blinked, confused. Why was Stefan here? He turned his head and heard music blasting from the third floor laughter, shouts, and voices he recognized from campus. Did she organize a birthday party without inviting me? The thought sank heavily into his stomach. He walked inside. The hallway smelled of perfume, alcohol, and cigarette smoke. Blue LED lights flickered from the living room where students had gathered. Their bodies swayed to the music, couples pressed together, lips locked and hands wandering. It was messy , loud and wild. Some classmates noticed him, but no one said anything. To them, he was invisible. He scanned the crowd, hoping to see Tahlia. Nothing. He walked deeper into the apartment, brushing through sweaty strangers and beer bottles on the floor. The living room felt like a club too loud, too chaotic. He pushed through toward the hallway. Her door was slightly open. Light spilled out. Music buzzed from inside. He hesitated for a second, holding the small gift box in his palm. Then he pushed the door wider and stepped in. His heart dropped. Tahlia was on the bed with Stefan. Her hands were pressed against his chest, trying to push him off. Stefan’s face was buried against her neck. She kept twisting away, panic clear in her voice. “No …Stefan, stop. I said I’m not ready,” she cried. “Get off me” Stefan raised his voice, frustration dripping through his words. “How dare you waste my time? Do you know who I am?” Tahlia tried to pull away again, but he trapped her wrists above her head. “Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about that poor, stinking boy!” Stefan spat. Tahlia’s voice shook. “He’s not stinking! And you shouldn’t treat him like an animal just because he’s poor…” Stefan’s expression twisted. He raised his hand sharply, anger burning in his eyes, ready to strike her. But his hand never landed. Declan had moved before he could think. He grabbed Stefan by the arm and shoved him hard, pulling Tahlia away from him. “Stay away from her!” Declan snapped. Stefan stumbled back and hit the edge of the dresser. He stared at Declan, shocked that anyone especially Declan would dare touch him. Then his face turned red with fury. “You filthy dog!” he shouted, charging at Declan. He threw a punch. Declan blocked it with his forearm. Another punch but this time to Declan’s jaw. It hurt, but he barely reacted. “I told you to stay away!” Stefan yelled again, swinging wildly. Declan backed up, trying not to hit him. He clenched his fists, shaking with anger, but he didn’t want to make things worse. Students nearby started crowding at the doorway, drawn by the shouting. Some pulled out their phones, already recording. Stefan kept punching him. To the jaw. To the ribs. To the face. Declan tasted blood, felt his skin swell. But still he held back. Tahlia reached forward, crying. “Stop! Both of you stop!” Stefan ignored her and swung again. At that moment, something inside Declan broke, the same part of him that had knelt in the mud, that had barked like an animal, that had watched his grandmother die helplessly, that had been called a dog. He was done. He tightened his fist and threw a punch a clean, sharp, controlled punch straight to Stefan’s face. Stefan flew backward and hit the floor with a loud thud. Blood spurted from his nose, staining his designer shirt. “I’m bleeding!” he screamed. “My nose , I’m bleeding!” The crowd gasped, phones lifted even higher, cameras flashing. Declan stepped forward, breathing hard. Stefan’s friends rushed in the boys Xavier, Klyde, Marcus, Evan trying to grab him. But Declan had spent years working in stables, lifting heavy equipment, hauling feed, enduring pain daily. He moved fast blocking, shoving, striking only when necessary. He fought like someone who had survived life, not privilege. Each punch was fueled by years of humiliation and suffering. He knocked Marcus down. He pushed Xavier into the wall. He dodged Evan’s tackle and slammed him onto the mattress. Within seconds, all four of them were on the ground, groaning in disbelief. Everyone in the doorway froze watching the poor orphan beat the rich boys they worshiped. The shame burned them deeper than the bruises. Stefan wiped his bloody nose with trembling fingers, then screamed, “CALL THE POLICE! NOW!” His voice cracked with panic. “Call them! I want him arrested!” Xavier scrambled for his phone. Marcus and Klyde pulled theirs too. Declan stood still, chest rising and falling, staring at Tahlia. She was shaking, wide-eyed, pressed against the wall. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. He had no words left. Minutes later, sirens blared outside. Uniformed officers stormed into the apartment. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t even look at Tahlia. They only saw Stefan’s bruised nose and blood-spattered shirt. “That’s him,” Stefan pointed, voice trembling with anger. “Arrest him.” Declan tried to explain, breath still uneven. “I was defending Tahila. He was hurting and tried to assault her ! ” But the police men ignored him “Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” the officer interrupted flatly. “But I was only defending myself !” “Now.” Declan’s fists tightened helplessly. He turned. Cold metal cuffs locked around his wrists. Tahlia’s face disappeared behind a group of students and he wished she came out to defend him and say exactly what happened but it broke his heart that she didn’t. Phones kept recording. Whispers spread like poison. Declan was dragged through the hallway, through the smoking crowd, past the red Ferrari waiting outside like a witness. The police shoved him into the back of their car and the door slammed shut. That night, he was taken away and locked up in jail.
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Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY FOURDeclan left the palace like a ghost with a borrowed body. His ribs hurt each time he breathed. His lip was still split. His cheek still burned from the slaps. He could not even cover it properly because he did not have a clean shirt, and he did not have a jacket. He only had his hands and the shame that followed him like a shadow.Ms. Sonia had said he was not alone. But the street did not feel like that.The street felt like the world had agreed to forget him.He walked out of the palace gate and kept going, because staying inside meant being watched, and being watched meant being used. His feet dragged, and the soles of his shoes felt thin like paper. He kept thinking about the ring. About how empty his finger felt. Like a piece of him had been torn off, not the jewelry, but the last proof that he mattered to someone.He stopped at the first shop, a small supermarket with a bright sign and a tired cashier. He walked in and forced his voice to sound normal.“Please
Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY THREEDeclan did not know how long he stood in that corridor, staring at the empty space on his finger where the ring used to sit. The air felt cold against his swollen cheek, and his throat tasted like iron. He kept replaying Stefan’s whisper in his head, the way it sounded less like advice and more like ownership.Then he felt it.A presence.He turned slightly, and Ms. Sonia was there.Not walking. Not approaching with calm steps. Standing close enough that he could smell her perfume under the palace air. Her eyes were sharp again, but the tightness in her face gave her away. She had seen it. She had heard enough.Declan tried to straighten, but pain pulled him back down. His knees wanted to fold. His pride wanted to fight her help, but his body was too broken for pride.Ms. Sonia grabbed his arm. “Move,” she said quietly.Declan blinked at her. “Where,” he asked.“To the only place that matters right now,” Ms. Sonia said. “Before Jacob decides to make another example
Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY TWOThe grand hall was bright and cold, like it was built to crush people. Declan stood between two guards with his arms pinned, his ribs screaming each time he breathed. He could still hear that metallic click behind him, and he knew it was not a mistake. It was a warning.Jacob stepped closer, calm and proud, holding the royal stick like it belonged to him. “Remove the ring,” Jacob said. “Do it now.”Declan looked down at the emerald and rubbed it with his thumb. “No,” Declan said quietly. “Not that.”A murmur moved through the hall. Uncle Markus smiled like he had been waiting for the word. “He still thinks he is somebody,” Uncle Markus said.Jacob’s eyes sharpened. “You are nobody,” Jacob said to Declan. “You are a guest here. A thief in royal clothes.”“I did not steal anything,” Declan said.The royal grandmaster stared at him without warmth. “Obey,” the royal grandmaster said. “That is all you are required to do.”Declan lifted his head. “I already gave the card a
Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY ONEDeclan did not remember how he got to the clinic.He only remembered the old security guard’s hands holding him steady, firm but gentle, like he had done this before. Declan’s nose would not stop bleeding, and every breath felt like it scraped his ribs. His shirt was soaked in sweat and blood, and the ring on his finger felt like the only solid thing left in his life.“Stay awake,” the old man kept saying. “Just stay awake.”Declan tried.But the moment the nurse pressed cotton under his nose and asked his name, Declan’s throat locked up. Not because he forgot his name. Because the name no longer sounded like protection.The nurse glanced at his swollen face. “Who did this to you,” she asked.Declan stared at the white tiles. He wanted to say Stefan. He wanted to scream it.But he saw it clearly now. Stefan was not alone anymore. Stefan never acted alone when he could borrow power.“I fell,” Declan lied.The nurse did not believe him, but she did not argue. She clean
Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTYDeclan waited behind the anatomy lab after the last students left. The campus lights were bright and cold, throwing shadows across the walkway. The note in his pocket felt heavy. Tonight. Behind the anatomy lab. Come alone. He should not have come, but he was here anyway, standing in the dark, listening.He touched the emerald ring on his finger and tried to steady his breathing. His ribs ached, his jaw hurt, and his pride felt bruised deeper than his skin.Footsteps came from the far end of the corridor. More than one set. Three figures walked into the light, and the first one smiled.It was Stefan.Stefan looked clean and confident, dressed like he owned the night. Two men followed behind him, thick and silent. Stefan stopped a few feet away and laughed.“Oh, Declan,” Stefan said. “You came.”“Why are you here,” Declan asked.Stefan spread his hands. “Because you thought we would rot in prison,” Stefan said. “You thought you could ruin me with one party stunt and some
Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY Nine The palace did not sleep, but the stables did. The air was cold and damp, and the smell of hay sat heavy in Declan’s nose. His body ached in a way he had never felt before. Every breath pulled pain from his ribs. Even his eyelids felt heavy, like they had been bruised too.He must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing he heard was a rough voice and the sharp scrape of a shovel on wood.“Stand up,” a man said.Declan opened his eyes slowly. A worker stood over him with a shovel in his hand, his face hard and tired. The worker did not look like someone who cared about royal drama. He looked like someone who had been surviving here for years.Declan tried to sit up, his bones screaming. “What time is it,” Declan asked.“Time to work,” the worker replied.Declan swallowed and pushed himself up. His shirt was stuck to his skin from dried blood and sweat. His mouth tasted bitter. He touched his ring without thinking, as if he needed to confirm it was stil
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