The Pauper Who Ruled the Campus

Chapter 2: Shattered Dreams

Marcus stared at the strange notification glowing on his phone screen. His thumb hovered for only a second before he tapped it open. The message was simple, almost too good to be true. The title read: “$1000 just to pick up an order from the nearest pickup station.”

His eyes locked onto the number. $1000. That was more money than he had seen in months. He could buy all the textbooks he needed for the semester. Maybe even have enough left over for food that was not instant noodles. He did not bother checking the sender’s name. Greed and desperation moved faster than caution. He skimmed the pickup description—small package, quick delivery, cash upon completion—and bolted out of the campus main gate.

The school pickup station was just outside the entrance, a small booth where couriers dropped off parcels for students. Marcus arrived panting, sweat still clinging to his bare chest from earlier. The attendant handed him a neatly wrapped box, no bigger than a jewelry case, along with a small white envelope taped to the top. A note on the envelope said in bold letters: “Open when you get to your class to deliver the order to its rightful owner.”

Marcus barely glanced at the box. His mind was already counting the money. $1000. Freedom, even if only for a little while. He clutched the items tightly and hurried back toward the lecture hall, praying Professor Frost had not arrived yet.

Luck was on his side for once. The professor’s seat at the front was still empty. Students milled around, chatting, scrolling on their phones. Marcus slipped inside and took a moment to catch his breath. His heart hammered—not just from running, but from the fear of what might happen if the professor walked in while he was late. He pushed the thought aside and moved to the front of the class.

He tore open the envelope with trembling fingers. A few students noticed him standing there, shirtless and disheveled. Some whispered. Others snickered. Most ignored him completely. Marcus cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

“The order is for Baron Thorn.”

The room went silent.

Every head turned. Baron Thorn. The name alone carried weight. His family’s net worth sat at a staggering $50 billion—far richer than even Jackson’s clan. They were not just donors to the university; they were practically its backbone. For a nobody like Marcus to speak that name in public felt like sacrilege. Whispers rippled through the class. Eyes widened. Phones came out, ready to capture whatever came next.

Marcus continued, his voice steadier now. “And the second recipient is Thalia Shade.”

His own girlfriend’s name.

The words stuck in his throat. He looked up just as Thalia rose from her seat in the middle row. She walked forward with that graceful confidence that always made his chest tighten. But she did not look at him. Her eyes were fixed on Baron.

Baron stood as well, tall, polished, everything Marcus could never be. He met Thalia at the front. Without a word, he dropped to one knee and opened the small box. Inside, nestled on black velvet, sparkled a diamond ring. The stone caught the classroom lights and threw tiny rainbows across the walls.

The class exploded into cheers. “Say yes! Say yes!” Voices overlapped, excited, mocking, thrilled. Thalia’s cheeks flushed. She bit her lip, looking almost shy, almost hesitant. But her eyes shone.

Marcus felt the world tilt. This could not be happening. Not here. Not now. Not with her.

Before he could stop himself, before the rational part of his brain could scream at him to stay still, his hand shot out. He snatched the ring from Baron’s fingers and hurled it across the floor. It skidded under desks, clinking against tiles.

The room froze.

Baron’s mouth opened in shock. Thalia’s eyes widened in fury.

The slap came fast and hard. Thalia’s palm cracked across Marcus’s cheek, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Then she grabbed the milkshake from his other hand—the one he had bought with his last $500—and upended it over his head. Cold, thick vanilla cream poured down his face, soaked his hair, dripped onto his bare shoulders and chest.

Laughter erupted. Phones flashed. Someone shouted, “Look at the loser!” Another called him “pathetic dog.” The humiliation burned hotter than the slap.

Thalia rushed to Baron, cupping his face with both hands. “Are you okay? Did it get in your eyes? Oh my God, your eyes!”

Baron blinked, dazed, but unhurt.

Marcus dropped to his knees. Tears mixed with the sticky milkshake on his face. “Thalia, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

She spun on him and slapped him again, harder this time. “Find the ring. Right now. Or I swear, Marcus, you will regret ever touching it.”

Baron’s friends closed in. Two of them grabbed Marcus by the arms and shoved him forward. “Move, trash. Find it.”

More students joined the circle. Shouts filled the room. “Find it! Find it!” They pushed him from one side to the other like a rag doll. Phones recorded every second, live streams ticking upward in viewers. Marcus crawled on hands and knees, hands sweeping the floor, milkshake dripping from his chin. Shame choked him. He could feel every eye on him, every laugh carving deeper.

Finally, his fingers brushed metal. The ring. He lifted it, trembling.

Thalia did not wait for him to hand it over. She strode forward, snatched the ring from his palm, and walked straight to Baron. She placed it in his hand herself. Baron slipped the diamond onto her finger. Then he pulled her close and kissed her—deep, slow, romantic. Right there in front of everyone.

Marcus’s tears fell freely now. He had never even hugged her properly. Never kissed her. And now she was kissing someone else, someone who could give her everything he never could.

As they broke apart, Thalia turned to leave. Marcus reached out. “Thalia, please. Let me explain—”

Baron’s friends blocked him instantly. One raised his hand, ready to strike again.

That was when Freya Starling stepped through the door.

The department president. Beautiful, commanding, from one of the wealthiest families on campus. Everyone respected her. Even the rich kids feared crossing her.

She raised a hand, and the room fell silent.

“Enough,” she said, voice calm but steel-edged. “Touch him again, and you will not like what happens next. I promise you that.”

Baron’s friends lowered their hands. They muttered under their breath but backed off. Baron and Thalia returned to their seats, Thalia’s new ring glinting under the lights.

Freya walked straight to Marcus. She knelt beside him, ignoring the mess of milkshake on the floor. Gently, she helped him stand. She pulled tissues from her bag and wiped the worst of the cream from his face and chest. Her touch was careful, almost kind. When she finished, she gave him a small, steady nod.

“You’re okay,” she said quietly. “Go sit down.”

Marcus nodded, numb. He shuffled back toward his seat, head bowed.

Before he could reach it, his phone buzzed again. An email this time.

He opened it. The subject line hit like a punch: “Scholarship Termination Notice.”

His heart stopped. The message was cold and formal. Due to administrative review, his scholarship had been withdrawn. He had exactly five hours to pay the full tuition and fees—$300,000—or lose his place at the university entirely.

Marcus’s knees buckled. He knew who had done this. Rejoice. Jackson’s sister. She sat on the student scholarship committee. She had always hated him. Always looked for ways to make him suffer.

Another text came through. From Rejoice.

“Still want your scholarship? Meet me at the student scholarship management office. Now.”

Marcus did not hesitate. He turned toward the door, legs moving on autopilot.

Just as he reached the threshold, the door opened.

Professor Frost stepped inside.

His cold eyes swept the room, then landed on Marcus—shirtless, sticky, trembling, late.

The professor’s lips curled into a thin, dangerous smile.