THE SILENT INHERITANCE

Chapter 5

The corridors of Verrath City College hummed with student chatter, the echoes of celebration lingering after Steven Jones’s proposal to Elara Trump. Noah Varyn stood rooted to the spot, his amber eyes wide with disbelief, heart racing as he watched his fiancée—now ex-fiancée—smile radiantly at another man.

Cole George, his closest friend, pulled at his arm, concern clouding his blue eyes.

“Let’s go, man,” Cole urged, but Noah’s feet seemed cemented to the polished marble floor.

Shrugging off Cole’s hold, Noah stepped forward, his voice cutting through the dwindling applause.

“Elara!” he called, his words heavy with confusion and pain.

Elara turned, her blue eyes locking onto his, her smile flickering briefly before turning cold. Noah’s face was a portrait of anguish—jaw clenched, hands shaking at his sides.

“What’s happening? What’s going on, Elara?”

Elara, stunning in a form-fitting dress, her fair skin glowing under the hallway’s lights, adjusted the glittering ring on her finger with deliberate slowness, her expression icy.

Before she could respond, Flora Dutches, her bold friend, pushed through the crowd, her emerald-green dress swaying.

“Are you clueless, Noah?” Flora sneered, her voice sharp with disdain. “Steven proposed. She’s done with you.”

Cole stepped in, his tone calm but firm. “Flora, back off. Let Elara speak.”

Flora opened her mouth to retort, but Elara raised a hand, silencing her. She stepped closer to Noah, her eyes narrowing.

“What did you say?” she asked, her voice cold, head tilted as if sizing him up.

Tears welled in Noah’s eyes, spilling down his cheeks as he struggled to hold them back. His voice broke with raw emotion.

“After everything we’ve been through, you cheated on me? After all I gave up for you, you chose someone else?”

Elara’s laugh sliced through the air, sharp and cruel. “Steven’s not just *someone*, Noah. He’s a real man.”

She glanced at Flora, who snickered, and laughed harder. “Sacrifices? You? A penniless orphan chasing impossible dreams? You were never good enough for me, Noah. You’re pathetic.”

Her words struck like blows, each one cutting deeper. Tears flowed freely down Noah’s face, his chest heaving as he stood vulnerable before the staring crowd. Elara stepped closer, her smirk venomous.

“Aw, are you crying?” she mocked, her tone dripping with false pity.

The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, phones raised to record the scene. A sharp voice broke through.

“That’s enough!” The college headmaster, a tall man with graying hair and a stern frown, emerged from his office. “Everyone, back to class. Now!”

Students muttered, pocketing their phones and dispersing into classrooms, their whispers fading.

Cole, worry etched on his face, touched Noah’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”

But the headmaster raised a hand. “Noah, come to my office. Cole, you go to class.”

Noah hesitated, his gaze lingering on Elara, who turned away with a smug smile. He followed the headmaster, his sneakers scuffing the floor, his backpack weighing heavily on his shoulder.

In the office, the headmaster sat behind his desk, his expression softening but troubled. “Noah, your stepmother is coming to see you,” he said quietly.

Noah’s head jerked up, confusion knitting his brow. “My stepmother? Why?” His voice was hoarse from crying.

Before the headmaster could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the door. “That must be her,” he said. “Come in.”

The door opened, and two police officers entered, their badges gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Behind them stood Madam Celeste, her fair skin flushed with triumph, and Flora, grinning as if she’d won a prize.

“That’s him,” Madam Celeste declared, pointing at Noah. “He’s the thief who stole my golden necklace!”

Noah’s jaw dropped, but words escaped him. A burly officer with a stern expression stepped forward. “Don’t try anything, kid,” he warned gruffly. “You’re coming with us. Hands where we can see them.”

“I didn’t—” Noah began, but stopped, his shoulders sagging. He knew protesting was futile. The officers flanked him, their grips tight as they led him out of the office and through the hallway. Students peered from classrooms, their eyes wide, whispers buzzing.

“Is that Noah?” one muttered.

“They’re arresting him?” another hissed.

Cole pushed through the crowd, his face pale. “Noah, what’s going on?” he shouted, voice cracking with worry.

Noah didn’t respond, his head bowed, heart pounding as the officers escorted him outside. The police car’s red and blue lights flashed, casting shadows on the college steps.

They ushered him into the backseat, the door slamming shut with a heavy thud. The drive to the station blurred by, the city streets a haze as Noah’s mind reeled—Elara’s betrayal, Celeste’s accusations, the necklace he never took.

At the station, they locked him in a small, gray cell, the metal bars cold and unforgiving. The air reeked of stale coffee and disinfectant. Noah sat on the hard bench, head in his hands, for two grueling days, barely sleeping as his mind replayed the proposal, Elara’s cruel laughter, and the sting of betrayal. On the third day, the cell door clanked open, and an officer grunted, “You’re out. Someone bailed you.”

Noah shuffled into the station’s waiting area, his clothes disheveled, eyes red. His gaze landed on a familiar figure—the woman from the proposal, her blue eyes calm, her simple dress out of place in the grim setting. Shock washed over him.

“It’s you,” Noah whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief as he stared at the woman who had called him “Young master Noah.”