The Graham Heir—I Am Not An Adopted Nobody

Chapter 48: The Rematch

Over at Robert’s school, the vibe was completely different.

Edward wasn't just smiling, he was practically glowing. He stood in the shade at the center of the campus courtyard with Chloe resting on his arm, looking like the king of the world. A small crowd of students surrounded them, shouting congratulations and trying to get close to them.

The contract with the Grahams was signed. It was official, and Edward’s family influence hadn’t just grown. It had brought even more fame.

Chloe leaned into him, a soft, triumphant laugh escaped her lips. “I told you it would work. I told you no one could stop us.”

Edward smirked, adjusted his collar, and looked out over the campus like he owned it all. “Of course darling, it worked. Now when my family moves, the world has no choice but to adjust.”

But behind the expensive suit and the smug smile, something dark was pestering him. Edward hadn't forgotten the humiliation of the night before. He hadn't forgotten the feeling of his knees hitting the floor or the sight of his father bowing to a "cleaner."

“Once he shows his face at school today,” Edward whispered to Chloe, his voice dropping to a cold hiss, “we’re going to settle the debt.”

Chloe’s eyes turned cold. “He embarrassed not just you, but us and your family. He needs to be reminded exactly where he belongs.”

Just then, Chloe’s inner circle hurried toward them, looking like they had seen a ghost. Julie, Tracy, and Silver were out of breath, their faces pale.

“Chloe!” Julie gasped. “Do you even know what happened at Graham Scholars Academy yesterday? The real story?”

Chloe frowned, annoyed by the interruption. “What are you talking about?”

Silver stepped forward, her voice shaking. “Robert.”

Even the mention of the name made Edward’s jaw tighten.

Tracy lowered her voice, leaning in close. “He fought twenty five men. All at once. We saw it, Chloe. It wasn't normal. There was this... this lightning, this power he used and they couldn't even lay a finger on him.”

Edward let out a flat, dry laugh. “Lightning? Are you actually listening to yourselves? You’ve been watching too many movies.”

Silver shook her head frantically. “We’re dead serious. Malcolm went up against him personally.”

At the mention of his name, Malcolm— who had been standing a few feet away pretending to be bored —stiffened like a board. He didn't want to interact with Edward after the incident last night.

“Robert crushed his Lamborghini,” Julie added, her eyes wide. “He didn't just dent it. He crumpled the entire front end like it was made of paper. Malcolm got beaten so badly he had to run for his life.”

The courtyard became quiet. Dozens of students leaned in, eager to hear the gossip. Malcolm’s face turned a deep, angry shade of purple.

“That is not what happened,” Malcolm snapped, stepping into the circle.

Julie raised an eyebrow, a skeptical look on her face. “Oh really?”

Malcolm forced a pained laugh, trying to play it cool. “It was an accident. I slipped on the pavement and he just got lucky because I lost my balance. That’s the only reason he had the upper hand. End of story.”

Silver crossed her arms. “Lucky? Malcolm, the car was totaled.”

“I said I slipped!” Malcolm shouted, his voice cracking.

His image was everything to him. He was the golden boy, the untouchable athlete. He couldn't let the truth— that he had been terrified— get out. “It was a misunderstanding. Nothing more.”

Tracy and Silver exchanged a long, knowing look. “Alright,” Tracy said slowly, a challenge in her eyes. “If you just slipped... why don't you fix it right now? In front of everyone.”

Before Malcolm could respond, a deep, aggressive engine sound rolled across the campus.

Heads turned towards the entrance. A Ferrari SF90 Stradale, finished in a matte black and crimson red, glided into the lot. The sunlight hit the sharp carbon fiber edges, making the car look like a predator.

“Who is that?”

“That’s not a student’s car. No one here has an SF90 limited edition.”

Even Edward looked curious for a split second before replacing it with boredom. His family was worth five hundred billion now, he wasn't supposed to be impressed. But the car was undeniably rare.

Malcolm stared at the Ferrari. His face began to drain of color. “That car...”

“It looks familiar,” Julie whispered.

Tracy’s eyes went wide. “It’s the one from the Academy. It’s the exact same one.”

Edward waved a hand dismissively. “You’re hallucinating. You’ve let that lightning fantasy rot your brains.”

But the Ferrari didn't stop. It parked perfectly in the main VIP lot. The engine cut out with a final, heavy growl. The door swung open.

Robert stepped out.

The silence that hit the courtyard was absolute. Then, the other door opened, and Avery stepped out from the passenger side.

By passing students murmured.

“That’s Robert!”

“The cleaner? The errand boy?”

“How is he driving that? There’s no way!”

People stared, unsure what they were seeing. “He probably begged Avery to let him sit in it,” one guy muttered. “Yeah, he’s using her influence again. It can’t be his.”

A group of girls rushed toward Avery as she walked toward the building. “Avery! How did you get that Ferrari? It’s gorgeous!”

Avery looked at them with a strange, distant expression. “It isn't mine.”

The girls blinked. “Then whose is it?”

“It’s Robert’s,” she said simply.

Laughter broke out instantly. “Be serious, Avery! How would an errand boy own a car that costs more than this school?”

Avery didn't explain. She just remained quiet and kept walking. Robert stood by the car for a moment, his hands in his pockets. He wasn't nervous and he wasn't looking for attention. He was just scanning the crowd, his eyes moving calmly from face to face as if he were looking for someone. He wasn't even looking at Malcolm.

That was the final straw. Being ignored hurt Malcolm’s pride more than being beaten.

Chloe turned to Malcolm, her voice a tempting whisper. “There’s your chance, Malcolm. Now everyone is watching fix your reputation. Put him where he belongs.”

Julie leaned in. “If he really didn't beat you, prove it was a mistake.”

Malcolm looked around, hundreds of eyes would witness this.

 Robert was distracted, looking toward the far end of the campus. He wasn't even in a fighting stance.

This was it. One strike, and Malcolm would be a hero again. He clenched his fist, the muscles in his arm bulging.

Then, he snapped.

He launched forward, sprinting across the pavement with everything he had. The crowd gasped as he closed the distance in a blur. Robert still hadn't turned his head. He looked completely vulnerable.

Malcolm drew his arm back, put his entire weight behind his shoulder, and swung a massive, fist straight at Robert’s face—