Revenge Of The Billionaire Heir

Chapter 3

Chapter three

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.