THE BEGGER BOY IS RICH HEIR

"Hey, idiot! Get out of there!"

The shout echoed through the empty basketball court, followed by the unmistakable sound of a ball hurtling toward Ethan’s head. 

He barely had time to flinch before the basketball collided with his skull, sending him stumbling backward onto the cold concrete. His vision blurred, and his head throbbed in pain.

Laughter erupted from the group standing near the court’s edge—Mike and his friends, their mocking grins wide as they watched Ethan, sprawled out on the ground like a fool.

"Look at him!" one of Mike's friends called out, his voice laced with cruel amusement.

"Can’t even dodge a ball!"

"Stupid, pathetic loser," another chimed in, their laughter making Ethan’s ears ring.

The floor beneath Ethan’s hands was gritty and dirty, and he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, feeling the sting of embarrassment heat his cheeks.

 He had been cleaning the court, doing his job as part of his work-study program.

But clearly, Mike and his crew had other plans.

Groaning, Ethan sat up and looked around the court.

The sweat on his face mingled with the dirt from the floor.

His body was aching, and his pride was bruised. But he pushed through the pain.

“I just finished cleaning,” he muttered, wiping his hands on his worn-out shirt.

“The court’s closed. You guys need to get out.”

Mike, who was grinning like he had all the power in the world, stepped closer.

His tall frame towered over Ethan, casting a shadow over him.

"You heard him, boys?" Mike said, turning to his friends.

"He thinks he’s the boss of this place!” he mocked Ethan.

One of Mike’s friends, a skinny guy with a crooked smile, scoffed and stepped forward.

 "A beggar ordering us around? Who does he think he is?" he sneered, his eyes narrowing with contempt.

"I don’t care who you are." Ethan swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure.

His voice was shaking but determined.

 "I just cleaned half of this court. If you mess it up, I’ll have to do it all over again."

The words seemed to enrage Mike and his gang.

They looked at each other with shared disdain before Mike’s expression shifted into one of dark amusement.

"Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it?" Mike’s voice was low, menacing.

He reached forward and slapped Ethan hard across the face.

 The force of the blow sent Ethan sprawling onto the concrete once more, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.

“Akh,” Ethan could only groan in pain.

"You poor thing... That’s your fate if you have to clean this entire field. I don’t care about you!" Mike’s voice was cruel, his words a reminder of the power he wielded over Ethan.

Before Ethan could react, Mike’s friends joined in.

They kicked his body, one after another, their laughter filling the air. 

His stomach twisted with pain as their feet slammed into his side. 

Every hit made his vision grow darker, but he held back tears, clenching his fists as he lay there.

"Get up," Mike spat, his face inches from Ethan’s. 

"You really think I care about some poor kid’s job? I’ve got better things to do. Now, get out of here!"

Ethan struggled to push himself to his knees, his body aching, but he didn't want to leave. 

He needed the money he earned from his work-study job.

“I’m not leaving,” Ethan said, trying to find the strength in his voice. 

"I’m responsible for cleaning this court.If you make a mess, I won’t get paid. Do you want me to lose my job?"

Mike sneered, his eyes narrowing as he flicked his head toward Ethan’s battered form. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Mike said, his voice sharp with irritation.

"I’m the richest kid at this school! I do whatever I want. And today, I’ve got business to attend to."

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat.

He looked around, seeing the other boys nodding, as if confirming something.

Mike took a deep breath and grinned wickedly.

 "I’m going to confess to a girl today, and I don’t need you messing things up. So, you better get out of here. Now!"

The words hit Ethan like a punch to the gut.

His stomach twisted with unease, but he knew he couldn’t argue. Mike wasn’t going to listen.

And if he pushed back, he might lose his job entirely.

The group erupted in laughter again, mocking Ethan, calling him names like "poor loser" and "worthless beggar." 

Then, without another word, they shoved him roughly to the side, ordering him to stay in the corner and clean up after they were finished.

Ethan stumbled, clutching his stomach, and retreated to the storage shed nearby.

 He was in pain, his face throbbing, but he couldn’t let them see how much he was hurting.

He was determined to get through it. After all, this was just one more day in his miserable life.

Inside the shed, Ethan sat on the edge of an overturned bucket, trying to catch his breath.

He wiped the blood from his lips, feeling the sting in his skin.

 The commotion outside grew louder, and Ethan could hear the shouts of “Say yes!” and “Kiss her!” as if the whole school was anticipating a dramatic confession.

Ethan hesitated for a moment before pushing open the warehouse door, curiosity getting the better of him. 

He stepped outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the momentous event.

His heart hammered in his chest, the pain from the earlier beating still throbbing through his body. 

But when he looked toward the basketball court, he froze. His eyes widened, and the world around him seemed to tilt on its axis.

There, in the middle of the court, was Melissa—his girlfriend—locked in a passionate kiss with another man.

A rush of anger and confusion swirled in Ethan’s chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. 

His hands clenched into fists, and his mind screamed for him to stop them, to make them pay for the betrayal that was unfolding before his eyes.

Without thinking, Ethan rushed forward, his legs carrying him across the court. 

"Melissa!" he shouted, his voice breaking through the noise of the crowd.