Ethan POV
Before lunch, news of my challenge against Brandon had spread across the entire campus. Everyone was talking about it. Some felt sorry for me. Most just wanted to watch me fail. I sat in the cafeteria, eating alone as usual. At the table across from me, Daniel, Sophia, and Emma sat together, laughing about something. "That idiot is going to embarrass himself again," Daniel said loud enough for me to hear. "He doesn't have the stamina to last five minutes." Sophia giggled. "I'm definitely filming this for my vlog. My followers are going to love it." Emma smiled. "I'm so glad I chose you, Daniel. Ethan was always such a disappointment." I ignored them and finished my food. I had more important things to focus on. After lunch, I headed toward a table where four guys sat by themselves. They were dressed in simple clothes, all wearing glasses, and looked like they'd rather be anywhere else. "Hello," I said. They all looked up in surprise. "Oh, hi," one of them—Liam—said nervously. "Can I sit?" "Sure!" they all said at once, looking shocked that anyone wanted to sit with them. I recognized all four from high school. We'd gone to the same community school but never really talked. They'd always stuck together—Liam, Ryan, Alex, and David. Best friends since childhood. "Are you here to ask us to be your teammates?" Liam asked. Before I could answer, Ryan jumped in. "If that's why you're here, then yes." "Definitely yes," Alex added. "Count me in," David said. "Do you know how long we've wanted you on our team?" I smiled. I'd approached them for exactly that reason. These four were the best players from our high school basketball team. They'd won medals, even though our school wasn't well-known. They'd asked me to join their team once, but I'd turned them down because I needed to work part-time. "That's exactly why I'm here," I confirmed. "We're in," Liam said immediately. "We're glad you finally came to us." "Thanks for reaching out," Alex said. "We'll be there at 2 PM," David promised. "We'll make sure that rich kid eats his words." I felt a small pang of guilt. Technically, I was a "rich kid" now too. But I understood what they meant. "Thanks. I'll see you on the court." As I left the cafeteria, I noticed Emma following me. Great. I changed direction and headed toward the men's restroom. Maybe she'd take the hint and leave me alone. "Ethan!" she called out. "Wait!" I stopped and turned around, raising an eyebrow. "What do you want?" "I've been worried about you," she said, her voice dripping with fake concern. "I heard you got thrown out. Where did you sleep last night?" "That's none of your business." "Don't be stubborn," she said, stepping closer. "I want to help. You can stay at my old apartment until the rent runs out. I'll do this for you... because of what we once had." I wanted to laugh. Did she really think I'd fall for this? "I don't need your help," I said flatly. "Stop being proud!" Her patience was wearing thin. "You accepted Brandon's challenge! Aren't you scared of being his slave? I'm trying to help you, and you won't listen. This is exactly why I left you." Just yesterday, she said she left because I was too poor. Now it was because I was stubborn? "Leave me alone," I said, trying to walk past her. She grabbed my arm. "Wait! If you don't want the apartment, at least... give me something to remember you by. Like a necklace or something." There it was. She wanted Mom's necklace. Just then, three guys walked out of the restroom. Perfect timing. "Why would a married woman want something to remember her ex?" I asked loudly. "Do you still want me as your boyfriend, even though you're married to my brother?" Emma's face went pale. "No, that's not—" "Look behind you," I interrupted. "And don't ever call me Ethan again. You're not qualified. Tell Daniel that whatever he wants, he'll never get it." She glanced back and saw the guys staring at us. Her face flushed red with embarrassment as I walked away, leaving her to explain herself. At 2 PM, I arrived at the basketball court. A crowd had already gathered, eager to watch the game. Brandon stood in the center with his team, grinning confidently. "I was starting to think you chickened out." "I'm here," I said simply. Brandon's eyes narrowed as he looked at my team—Liam, Ryan, Alex, and David. "Where'd you find these guys? The trash can?" "Let's just start," I said. "Fine by me. This'll be over quick." The referee blew the whistle. Brandon and I faced off for the tip-off. The ball went up. Brandon jumped high, but I was faster. I tapped it to Liam, who immediately passed to Ryan. The crowd gasped. They hadn't expected my team to be fast. Ryan dribbled past one of Brandon's defenders and passed to Alex, who was positioned near the three-point line. Alex took the shot. Swish. We'd scored first. The crowd erupted in surprise. No one had expected that. Brandon's face turned red. "Lucky shot!" he snarled. He grabbed the ball and charged down the court, taking a risky shot from the free-throw line. The ball bounced off the rim. I caught the rebound and passed to David, who sprinted down the court. Brandon's team scrambled to catch up, but we were too fast. David faked a pass to Liam, confusing a defender, then drove toward the basket and dunked. The crowd went wild. Brandon called a timeout, his face twisted with fury. I could see him whispering something to his team. When the game resumed, Brandon's team played more aggressively. They tried to trip us, elbow us, anything to slow us down. But it didn't work. My team played with perfect coordination. Every pass was precise. Every shot counted. As the clock wound down, the score gap widened. It was clear we were going to win. With one minute left, I caught the ball, dribbled past Brandon easily, and dunked it hard. The final whistle blew. We'd won. The crowd erupted in applause. Brandon stood frozen, his face pale with shock. I walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We had a deal, didn't we? From now on, you listen to me." Brandon's fists clenched, but he couldn't argue. Everyone had witnessed the bet. "Now," I said calmly, "call me Master." The crowd went silent. Brandon's face turned red. He looked around desperately, but no one helped him. "Master," he finally whispered. "I can't hear you." "MASTER!" he shouted, his whole body trembling with humiliation. I smiled. "Good. Now go get me a milkshake." One of his teammates started to move, but I stopped him. "No. Brandon does it himself." Brandon glared at me, his jaw clenched. But he turned and walked away. "Think he'll actually do it?" Liam asked. "He will," I said confidently. Five minutes later, Brandon returned with a milkshake and handed it to me. "Good job," I said. "I'll see you around, Brandon." As I walked away with my team, I took a sip of the milkshake. It tasted like victory.Latest Chapter
chapter 167
The formal charges arrived three weeks after Margaret's statement, delivered through official channels that moved, for once, with a speed that surprised even Patricia."Swiss federal prosecutors have filed charges," she told me, reading from a translated summary her office had received that morning, the two of us standing in the study while Henry listened from his usual chair near the window. "Breach of fiduciary duty regarding the trust's charitable designation. Falsification of the foundation's stated purpose across multiple regulatory filings. And, most significantly, a charge the prosecutors are calling institutional endangerment of minors, built specifically around the testimony the forty-three former students have now formally provided."I sat with that for a long moment, the particular weight of it settling into something I had not entirely expected to feel — not triumph exactly, though there was some of that threaded through it, but something closer to a genuine, sober gravity
chapter 166
I called Sandra that same afternoon, and told her everything — the meeting at the restaurant, the recording, Margaret's precise offer, and my decision. She was quiet for a long moment after I finished, and when she spoke, her voice carried a particular careful weight I had come to recognise, across two significant stories together, as the sound of a journalist genuinely moved by something beyond the story itself. "I want to be honest with you," she said. "I would have understood if you'd taken the deal. I would not have thought less of you for it. Protecting your family and your company from years of continued litigation is not a small thing to weigh against one woman's privacy, particularly a woman who has already, by every account, suffered a genuine reckoning." "I know," I said. "I almost did take it. Two days of almost taking it, honestly." "What changed," Sandra asked. "My seven-year-old cousi
chapter 165
Lily was at the kitchen table the next morning, methodically arranging her cereal into what I had come to understand was a private, evolving system of classification, when I sat down across from her instead of taking my usual seat. She looked up immediately, reading, as she always did, that something in the shape of the morning had changed. "You're doing the thinking face," she said. "The really serious one. Not the company one. The other one." "I have a question for you," I said. "A real one. I want you to think about it properly before you answer, the way you always do." She set down her spoon, giving me the particular full, undivided attention she reserved for exactly these moments, and I found myself, looking at her small, serious face, grateful, not for the first time, that I had never once made the mistake of treating her seriousness as something smaller than an adult's. "The woman who tried to visit your school," I said carefully. "Margaret. She's asked me for somethin
chapter 164
I did not sleep well that night, and I did not sleep well the two nights after it either.Patricia came to the mansion the following morning, and I laid the offer out for her exactly as Margaret had given it to me, watching her expression shift through several careful stages as she worked through the legal architecture of what was actually being proposed."This is a genuinely favourable settlement, from a purely legal standpoint," she said, once I had finished. "Full withdrawal of her claim. Cessation of the share accumulation. Formal severing from Hargrove, which would very likely finish whatever remains of his shareholder coalition, since he has no independent resources of his own to continue funding it. If you accepted this today, the corporate threat that has occupied a significant portion of this family's attention for months would simply end.""And the cost," I said."The cost is narrower than it sounds," Patricia said carefully. "She is not asking you to suppress the story of R
chapter 163
I thought about Margaret sitting across from me in that quiet hotel sitting room, speaking about her father's cruelty and her own thirty years of silence. I thought about how convincingly she had described a woman who had kept her distance from the family's worst patterns. And I understood, with a sudden, cold clarity, that the woman in those letters, patient, warm, relentlessly invested in shaping the lives of children she had never publicly acknowledged, was not the woman who had described herself to me.Or perhaps she was exactly the same woman, and I had simply been shown only the version she chose.---The regulatory pressure intensified through the following week, and I found myself following it the way one follows a storm on a weather map, tracking each new front as it moved across the continent.A Swiss newspaper obtained and published a partial list of the Vane trust's donations to Ravensbrook, revealing that the annual payments had increased sharply in the two years followin
chapter 162
The collapse did not begin in the city where I lived. It began, as Henry explained it to me over the phone at six in the morning, four thousand miles away, in a glass-fronted office building in Geneva, where a Swiss financial regulator had opened a formal inquiry into the Vane Family Trust barely thirty-six hours after Sandra's article ran."The regulator cited the article directly in its notice," Henry said, his voice carrying the particular clipped precision he adopted when he had been awake for a long time and had not yet allowed himself to feel anything about what he had learned. "Not as evidence, but as the reason the inquiry was opened. It requires the trust to produce records of every payment made to Ravensbrook Academy across its entire operating history, and to explain the purpose of each one."I sat up in bed, the grey pre-dawn light barely beginning to soften the edges of the curtains."Every payment," I said. "Forty years of them.""Forty years of them," Henry agreed. "Swi
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