The Pauper Who Ruled the Campus

Chapter 3: The Heir's Awakening

Marcus froze in the doorway, one foot already outside the classroom. Professor Frost’s cold eyes bored into him like knives. The man opened his mouth, voice sharp and commanding.

“Marcus! Where do you think you are going? If you step out of this room right now, if you miss even one second of my lecture, you know exactly what will happen. I will make sure you never set foot in this university again.”

The threat hung in the air, heavy and final. Students turned to watch, some smirking, others whispering. Marcus felt their stares like needles on his skin. But his scholarship—$300,000 due in five hours—was slipping away faster than any professor’s punishment could touch him. If he stayed, he would lose everything anyway. He would be out on the streets by nightfall.

Without a word, without even looking back, Marcus bolted.

Professor Frost’s voice chased him down the corridor. “You will regret this, boy! Mark my words!”

Marcus did not stop. His legs pumped harder, carrying him out of the building and across the campus. The scholarship management office was on the other side of the quad. He arrived breathless, sweat mixing with the drying milkshake still clinging to his chest. He pulled out his phone and dialed Rejoice.

The first call rang out to voicemail.

The second, the same.

Third, fourth, fifth—nothing.

On the sixth try, she finally answered. Her voice was cool, almost bored.

“You are late.”

“I’m here,” Marcus gasped. “I’m at the building. Where are you?”

“I changed my mind. I’m not there anymore. Meet me at the sports area instead.”

“The sports area? Where exactly—”

The line went dead.

Marcus stared at the screen, frustration boiling in his chest. He turned to leave the building when his phone rang again. This time it was Emmanuel, his roommate.

He answered immediately.

“Marcus, where are you? The hostel security just came in. They threw all your stuff out into the hallway—clothes, books, everything. They said your scholarship was revoked, so you’re no longer allowed to stay. You need to come back before they lock the door completely.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Marcus’s knees nearly gave out.

“Emmanuel, I—”

The call ended.

Before he could process it, another notification popped up. This one from the official school group chat. He opened it with shaking fingers.

His name and photo were trending at the top. Bold red text screamed: “EXPELLED – Marcus – Scholarship Revoked – Immediate Effect.”

Comments flooded in. Laughing emojis. Cruel memes. Someone had already photoshopped his face onto a dumpster. The world tilted. His entire life—every late-night study session, every skipped meal, every humiliation he had endured—was crumbling in real time.

Since his mother’s death three years ago, things had only gotten worse. She had been his anchor. Poor as they were, he could always run to her, bury his face in her shoulder, and cry until the pain eased. Now there was no one. No shoulder. No comfort. The only thing that had kept him going—his education, his chance at a future—was gone.

Tears stung his eyes. He had no choice left. He started running toward the sports area, legs burning, heart pounding with desperate hope. Maybe Rejoice would listen. Maybe she would forgive him. He was ready to beg, to grovel, to do anything she asked.

He reached the edge of the main road. A convoy of sleek black vehicles rolled up and stopped directly in front of him. He barely noticed at first, trying to sidestep and find another path.

The cars moved again, blocking him completely.

Marcus turned to run back the way he came. Too late. Security men in dark suits poured out, faster than he could move. Strong hands grabbed his arms, yanking him back.

His heart slammed against his ribs. Everything from the day flashed through his mind—the spilled water, the milkshake, the ring, the expulsion. Now this. Rich people again. Always rich people.

He struggled, panic rising. “Let me go! I didn’t do anything!”

The rear door of the golden Mercedes-Benz opened.

Marcus’s breath caught. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he braced for whatever came next.

A man stepped out—tall, impeccably dressed, silver hair neatly combed. He walked straight to Marcus and, without hesitation, bowed deeply.

“Young Master,” the man said, voice respectful and warm.

Marcus blinked, stunned. “What?”

The security team followed suit, every single one bowing low. The driver stepped out and bowed as well.

The man straightened. “I am Mr. Leo, butler to the Griffin Empire. Your grandfather, the head of the Griffin Empire, has sent us to bring you home. You are the new heir.”

Marcus laughed—a short, broken sound. “This has to be a joke. The Griffin Empire? The one that controls 80% of the world’s companies? The one that pulls strings behind governments and other empires? You’ve got the wrong person. I don’t have a father. I definitely don’t have a grandfather.”

Mr. Leo did not flinch. He simply reached into his pocket and handed Marcus a sleek phone. “Your grandfather wishes to speak with you.”

Marcus hesitated. His hands shook as he took the device and put it to his ear.

A deep, aged voice came through the line. “Marcus, my boy. It is time you knew the truth.”

The words that followed were impossible. Stories of hidden lineage, of protection, of sacrifice. Marcus listened, disbelief warring with something deeper. Then the grandfather said, “Mr. Leo, give him the photograph.”

Mr. Leo produced half of an old, faded picture. Marcus stared at it—his mother and father, young and smiling. His fingers moved to his pocket. He pulled out the matching half he had carried since childhood, the one his mother had given him before she died.

He placed the pieces together. Perfect fit.

Tears streamed freely now.

“I am so sorry, Marcus,” the voice said. “For every day you suffered. For every tear you shed alone. I let it happen to keep you safe. But no more. Your life changes today.”

Before Marcus could respond, his phone buzzed in his other hand. A bank alert.

$80 billion.

The number stared back at him, impossible and real all at once.

His grandfather continued. “When you return, I will explain everything about your parents. Everything they did. Everything we lost. For now, go with Mr. Leo. Trust him.”

The call ended.

Mr. Leo stepped forward and presented a black card. Sleek, heavy, edged in gold. “This is yours, Young Master. Only three have ever been issued in the history of the empire. It belongs to the heir alone.”

Marcus took it, fingers numb.

As Mr. Leo turned to leave, Marcus spoke. “Wait. I’ve been expelled from school. They revoked my scholarship. I’m finished here.”

Mr. Leo smiled faintly. He pulled out his own phone, dialed a number, and spoke calmly.

“Chancellor, this is Leo of the Griffin Empire. Revoke Marcus’s expulsion immediately. He is to remain enrolled with full privileges. Additionally, transfer $100,000 to his account as an apology for the inconvenience of expelling him from his own institution.”

He ended the call.

Seconds later, Marcus’s phone buzzed again. Two alerts. One: $100,000 deposited. The second: an email from the university. “Expulsion Notice Canceled. Full reinstatement effective immediately. We sincerely apologize for the error.”

Mr. Leo saluted sharply. The driver and every security man followed, saluting in perfect unison.

“We will await your return, Young Master,” Mr. Leo said. “The empire needs its heir.”

The convoy pulled away, leaving Marcus standing alone on the roadside, black card in one hand, phone in the other.

He opened his banking app. The balance stared back at him—$80 billion plus the new $100,000. He transferred a small amount to his secondary account just to test it. The transaction went through instantly.

His phone rang.

He looked at the screen.

Rejoice.