Rise Of The Student Pauper

CHAPTER 6

Darren sat quietly at the long glass table, the golden pen still resting between his fingers. The papers he had just signed lay neatly in front of him. 

His name, Jeremiah Hilton was printed boldly at the top, followed by the official stamp of the Hilton Conglomerate.

He exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling as the reality of what had just happened sank in. 

Just yesterday, he had been a poor student, counting coins to buy food. Now, he was sitting in a mansion, signing ownership papers worth billions. It felt unreal, like he was still dreaming and someone would soon wake him up.

Across the table, his grandfather smiled warmly at him. “You’ve done it, my boy,” Mr. Hilton said with a voice filled with pride. “You’ve taken your rightful place.”

Darren nodded faintly, still lost for words. “It’s just… so much to take in, sir,” he muttered, staring at the paper again.

Mr. Hilton chuckled softly and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get used to it, Jeremiah. This life…  it’s yours now. You only have to grow into it.”

Before Darren could reply, his phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with a new message notification. At first, he ignored it, thinking it might be a new delivery notification. But the name on the screen made his heart jolt.

Clara.

His grip on the phone tightened immediately. For a moment, he just stared at the name, unsure if he should even open it. After everything she’d done to him, he didn’t want to see or hear from her again. But curiosity got the better of him. He swiped it open.

A video started playing.

His breath caught in his throat. Clara was in bed with her new boyfirend Adrian Blake. She was half-naked, her head resting on Adrian’s chest, her laughter echoing faintly in the background. 

Adrian’s voice was low, mocking, and Clara smiled up at him as if she was proud of what she’d done.

Darren’s jaw clenched. His hand shook as he held the phone tighter watching them kiss. He felt the anger rising inside him like a storm he couldn’t control. His heart pounded, his vision blurred for a moment. All the memories, the nights he stayed hungry just to save money for her, the times she made him feel worthless, came flooding back.

He was about to block her when another message came through.

Clara: “I know life has turned its back on you. You probably can’t even feed yourself now, right? I’ll be having my birthday party tomorrow night. I’ll invite you, at least get free food.”

Darren stared at the message in disbelief. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Clara: “Adrian’s father, Mr. Frank Blake, will be there too. He’s announcing the launch of his new company — the same company that Hilton Conglomerate just partnered with. Can you imagine? Adrian’s father’s business is now linked to the biggest empire in the world. I’m so lucky to be close to such people.”

She added a laughing emoji and another message came right after.

Clara: “If you come late, you might miss the chance to eat free food, so don’t waste time.”

Darren exhaled slowly, a bitter smile forming on his lips. He leaned back in his chair, the phone still in his hand. “So that’s how you see me, Clara?” he murmured under his breath. “A poor beggar who needs free food.”

He huffed softly and shook his head, a faint glint appearing in his eyes. “You left me for Adrian Blake… but you don’t even know who you threw away.”

Mr. Hilton noticed his expression and asked, “Everything alright, my boy?”

Darren looked up and forced a small smile. “Yes, sir. Everything’s fine.”

But inside, he was thinking differently.

She will regret it.

- - - - - - - - - 

Morning came slowly, the sunlight spilling across the large bedroom like gold dust. 

For a moment, Darren thought he was back in his small hostel room until he turned and saw the huge velvet curtains, the floor, and the high ceiling.

He blinked several times, still adjusting. “Was all that real?” he whispered, rubbing his eyes. Then he glanced at the nightstand and saw the stack of black cards neatly arranged beside the photocopy of the ownership document of Hilton Conglomerate. That was when it hit him — this wasn’t a dream.

Before he could process it further, the door to his room opened quietly. A beautiful maid stepped in, bowing respectfully. “Good morning, young master,” she said, holding out a folded piece of paper. “Mr. Hilton asked me to give you this.”

Darren sat up and took the note, still half-dazed. “Thank you,” he said softly.

The maid smiled and left, closing the door gently behind her. Darren unfolded the note. It was written in his grandfather’s neat handwriting.

“Good morning, my boy,

I hope you slept well. Today, I want you to do something important. Each of the four black cards given to you yesterday was built with a special security feature. If not used for a certain number of withdrawals, it will automatically expire.

So today, please make sure you use all of them. Withdraw not less than one hundred thousand from each, just to test them. The pin for all cards is the same — 7613.

Love, Grandpa.”

Darren stared at the paper for a long moment, then slowly smiled. He still couldn’t believe he was reading something like this “withdraw a hundred thousand from each card.”

It was the kind of instruction that once belonged in movies or fairy tales.

He let out a small laugh. “A hundred thousand from each card, just as a test” he repeated to himself. “I used to save for weeks just to reach 100 dollars.”

He jumped out of bed, excitement rising in his chest. He didn’t even brush his hair. He pulled open the wardrobe briefly — rows of suits, shirts, shoes, and jackets stared back at him. But instead of trying any of them on, he went for the same old clothes he had worn the previous night — the delivery outfit that smelled faintly of dust and sweat.

He buttoned the shirt quickly and was already heading toward the door when the maid from before came rushing after him. “Young master, wait!” she said, almost breathless. “You have a wardrobe full of clothes, designer ones! You can’t go out looking like that.”

Darren smiled faintly but shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said. “I just need to run a quick errand to secure my bank cards from expiring.”

“But sir—” she tried again.

He was already halfway down the stairs before she could finish. “I’ll change when I get back,” he called out.

As he stepped outside the mansion, the sun hit his face and he took a deep breath. The convoy of cars was already waiting. Marcus, the driver, opened the back door respectfully. “Good morning, Master Darren,” he greeted.

“Morning, Marcus,” Darren said. “I’m off to the bank.”

Marcus looked up at him through the rearview mirror. “What bank sir, I can take you anywhere. You own over seven expensive cars, which one would you want to use today?”

Darren smiled. “There would be no need for that. I have ordered a cab already, I can't turn the driver back. Maybe later,” he said and Marcus opened his mouth to speak but Darren was already far away from the gate.

By the corner of the street leading to the Hilton Villa, he met the cab driver. He opened the door and slid into the seat.

“Take me to the Gold Chest Bank,” Darren said casually.

The driver blinked in surprise. “That’s… the bank for high-profile clients, sir. Only company executives and board members usually go there. It is a bank basically for millionaires.”

“I know,” Darren said calmly. “I just need to withdraw some cash.”

The driver hesitated but nodded. “Very well, sir.”