2026-09-16 04:33:16
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Chapter 16: The East Gate
-----The Bugatti hit the east gate of Westwood Elite doing speeds that would have ended anyone else's semester, but campus security had already cleared the checkpoint the moment they saw whose car it was. Trenton was out before it fully stopped, jacket off, sleeves already halfway up his forearms — a man dressing down for a fight instead of up for one."Report," he snapped at the head of security, a broad-shouldered ex-Marine named Doyle who'd been hired the week after the Malibu gala."Two males, confirmed Falcon ink, spotted near the east gate six minutes ago. They split up when we made them. One headed toward the library. We lost the second near the parking structure.""Sophia," Claire said, already moving."West building, like you said. Two of my men are walking her out now." Doyle held up a hand before Trenton could ask the obvious. "She's fine, Chairman. Scared, not hurt."Trenton exhaled — the first full breath he'd taken since the message hit his phone — but he didn't slow do
Chapter 15: The Dinner at Balthazar
-----The morning air over Westwood Elite still smelled like victory to Trenton Alex — cut grass, expensive coffee, and the faint exhaust of the Bugatti idling in a spot that used to belong to the dean.He didn't need it anymore. Not the car, not the point. But some habits from being invisible for eighteen years didn't die just because you owned the university now."Two dollars," he told the barista at the campus cart, sliding the coins across like he always had. She blinked at him — designer coat, watch worth more than her tuition — and didn't ask why the trillionaire still paid cash for a small black coffee.Old Arthur used to say: the day you stop remembering the price of things is the day you become someone else's target. Trenton remembered every price.He was still holding the cup when Jake Reynolds and two of his friends rounded the corner near the library steps, laughing about something until they saw him. The laughing stopped. Vanessa Cole was with them, arms crossed, sunglass
Chapter 14: The Campus Festival
-----Westwood Elite's annual Founder's Day Festival was supposed to be stupid.Stupid in a rich way — $500,000 worth of fairy lights on the quad, a stage, Balthazar catering free lobster rolls, and every student pretending to care about the founder who died in 1952. No one cared. They cared about who performed and who filmed.Chloe Kim cared about who filmed.She stood at 7:30 AM in front of Villa Azure gate, 19, Korean-American, 5'1, long black hair with pink tips, white cropped top, black skirt, white sneakers, 5M TikTok followers, business major, and a $200,000 wire in her Chase account from an anonymous LLC that was Leon Shepherd's LLC.The text with the wire: _FILM TRENTON ALEX DYING ON STAGE TODAY. 2PM. WE WILL HANDLE REST. POST VIRAL. YOU KEEP $200K + 1M VIEWS._She had not slept.Michael opened gate."Miss Kim is here," he told Trenton, who was inside eating rice and stew on floor, back in black Tom Ford suit, white shirt, diamond chain, Richard Mille, $2 coffee."Let her in,
Chapter 13: The Man Who Hunted Arthur
-----At 6:47 PM, Villa Azure's lights went out.Not the power. The security. Michael killed them."Protocol Azure," Michael whispered into his wrist mic, his voice not old anymore, but 30 years younger, the voice he had when he guarded Arthur on Venice Beach. "Lights out, gates locked, kitchen panic room. Twenty men inside. One man outside."Twenty men. Ten from Geneva — Trenton's private security, ex-Swiss Guard, no tattoos, suits off, now in black t-shirts, silent, positioned at every door and window. Ten from Zara — Shepherd Aerospace ex-military, British, not American, loyal to Zara because she paid their mothers' hospital bills when Leon wouldn't.One man outside.Kade Falcon.Inside the kitchen panic room — which was not a panic room but Arthur's old library, books, linen shirts still hanging — four women sat on the floor, barefoot, muddy sneakers off, holding each other's hands. Not fighting anymore.Sophia Reed, 18, hoodie, pure, first to be nice to him when he was poor, whis
Chapter 12: The Enemy's Sister
-----Villa Azure at 3:30 PM did not look like a $52 million mansion.It looked like a dorm after a fight.Four pairs of ruined white sneakers by the door. A black Tom Ford suit jacket thrown over a chair, covered in grass. Two Oxford shirts, one with blood — three drops — on the cuff. A hoodie with mud. A Harvard MBA sweatshirt with coffee. Four $2 coffees, empty, on the marble counter, next to a $20,000 espresso machine no one used.Sophia sat on the kitchen floor, knees up, still in her muddy hoodie, law books scattered. Claire sat on the counter, white sneakers off, bare feet, Oxford shirt untucked, ice-blue eyes still wet with fury, holding Trenton's bleeding hand even though Isabella had bandaged it.Isabella stood, blazer off, white t-shirt, cleaning the cut again, steady."We should go to hospital," Isabella said."It's three drops," Trenton said, sitting on the floor too, 6'4 frame folded, Tom Ford pants ruined, ebony skin with a little sweat. "Arthur bled more picking orange
Chapter 11: The Quad Attack
-----Westwood Elite had a tradition.Every Wednesday after a board war, the rich kids ate at Balthazar. The poor kids ate ramen on the quad. The Chairman, who owned both, was supposed to choose one.Trenton chose the quad.At 12:15 PM, he walked out of Sullivan Biotech tower still in his black Tom Ford suit, white shirt now a little wrinkled, diamond chain tucked, $2 black coffee in his hand, and drove his black Rolls Royce Phantom back to campus himself. No driver. Isabella followed in her own white Ferrari, not because she was told to, but because Michael had texted her: _Falcon still watching. Don't leave him alone._Sophia was on the grass, second row of the quad, brown ponytail, hoodie, law books open, $2 coffee next to her. She had seen the Chloe Kim video — 10 million views — Trenton bleeding on grass and staying for lunch. She had texted: _You okay?_He had replied: _Come to quad. Need slow thinking._Claire arrived at 12:30 PM in a different way. No Maybach. No security. She
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